


And Thus We Have Blotted Out the Skies

by DustOnBothSides



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alien Invasion, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Armitage Hux is a good general, Enemies to Allies, Heroic Kylo Ren, Learning to Work Together, Lost in space - Freeform, Other, Star Wars: Phasma Spoilers, Stormtrooper Culture, Stormtroopers doing Stormtrooper things, alien problem, daily life on the Finalizer, gory deaths, morally ambiguous doctor character, trippy alien environment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-06-18 10:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15483864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustOnBothSides/pseuds/DustOnBothSides
Summary: In the wake of the Battle of Crait, the Finalizer is damaged and stranded in an unknown part of the galaxy. After a reconnaissance mission on a seemingly-dead planet, the Star Destroyer is boarded by an alien, which proceeds to wreak havoc. In order to deal with it, Armitage Hux and Kylo Ren have to forget their enmity and work together.





	1. Among the strange and silent stars

**Chapter 1 - Among the strange and silent stars ******

> The room was soothingly quiet save for the low, almost imperceptible hum of the ship’s man-made, clockwork life. Lights were on ten percent. For a couple of fleeting moments, everything seemed perfectly at peace - if not the galaxy then at least this vessel - but then, as the pair of icy blue eyes focused on the ceiling above and its lighting fixtures, pain begun to return, and with it the memories of recent events. 

> Armitage Hux was no stranger to pain. He could live with it, work through it, and sometimes even turn it to his advantage, but the memories - those he could do without. 

> On a normal day he would’ve left the bed by now and gone through the usual points of his daily routine one by one, but the fact was - even after good seven or eight hours of undisturbed, pharmaceutically induced sleep, he still felt rather exhausted. His ribs throbbed with the same kind of dull pain as his head, and he knew that his sore, bruised throat would make eating any kind of solid food a chore. 

> _Supreme. Leader. Kylo. Ren._

> He frowned, attempting to shake his head. Yes, the pain didn’t leave just because of a couple hours of rest. Nor did the gravity of their situation change, he suspected. 

> It really was like a nightmare or a tasteless prank played by some unknown, malevolent deity. 

> Even with the Starkiller base gone, the odds had still been in their favour. 

> But then Supreme Leader Snoke was killed. ( _ **Previous Supreme Leader**_ , a voice in his head helpfully reminded him.) 

> And then the Supremacy was lost. 

> And then the remainder of the Resistance escaped. 

> Normally he wouldn’t have minded that much, except Organa was with them along with that scavenger from Jakku, and those two shaped up to be beasts of a particularly annoying kind. Though he almost laughed at the face their new, _newly-disgrace_ d Supreme Leader made once he found the Crait base empty. If it wasn’t for his several most likely cracked ribs and the tiny glint of madness in Kylo Ren’s eyes, that is. 

> They had boarded the command shuttle and left that useless, salt-encrusted planet behind, but soon after their return to the _Finalizer_ , as Armitage left the hangar to get his ribs and shoulder looked at, the _Resurgent_ -class Star Destroyer found itself under attack. Pain from his ribs notwithstanding, he rushed to the bridge and saw a great number of New Republic ships, both big and small, gathered all around them. At that moment he had realized the double-crosser dared to sell out the First Order as well. That disgusting, smelly, dirty lowlife known as DJ. 

> Without any preamble, the ships have opened fire. 

> It had proven too foolish to remain, so Armitage ordered retreat, and just as they were about to enter the hyperspace, their overloaded shields went down and tremors shook the ship. 

> _“Sir! The hyperdrive generator has been-_ “ someone yelled, only to be interrupted by a shower of sparks. 

> …and then they entered hyperspace, the unstable ship swaying and looping from side to side. 

> Armitage scrambled to the nearest safety belt built into the wall and quickly ordered the initiation of the generator’s emergency shutdown sequence, feeling blood leaving his face and sick apprehension blossom in his stomach. He knew that emergency or not, the whole halting process could still take up to an hour, possibly even more. Some of their engines had been damaged and it wouldn’t do to overburden the rest. 

> Eventually, streaks of stars outside the viewport, which have been transformed into crooked squiggles due to the ship’s mad tumble, returned to their usual, pinprick shapes. _Finalizer’_ s course had finally stabilized and they had a beautifully mundane view of the sterile void of space, having jumped neither into a star nor beyond the event horizon of a black hole. 

> As soon as Armitage freed himself from the belts and ascertained that his stomach and brain have not, in fact, exchanged places, he ordered a full scan of the area and search for any First Order stations or beacons in the vicinity. 

> And one by one, the navigation and astrogation officers in the sunken workstations below turned up to him, their faces full of a certain type of an awkward, fearful confusion. 

> _“Kriff.”_ He muttered under his breath and glared at the steady glow of unknown stars. 

> Back in the present, Armitage tried to get up without wincing. 

> He sent his protocol droid to fetch him a mug of tarine tea, and then resumed with his everyday routine, trying not to think of anything infuriating and distasteful, such as their new Supreme Leader. 

> As he undressed, the refresher mirror showed him his bruises in all their horrible glory and the sight took him aback. Huge and swollen, black and angry purple, they slashed across his ribs, mottled his shoulder, and made his throat appear as if… …as if he had a collar. As if he was a leashed dog. 

> Fighting a sudden surge of fury, he put his face under cold water for a while, forcing himself to calm down. Did throwing a temper-tantrum ever do anyone any good? Such things only painted one a fool. An immature half-wit with poor self-control. And he was better than that, wasn’t he? 

> Armitage cupped his hands and held them under the cold stream. What a pleasant sight that was. The water was clear and pure, just like the galaxy ought to be. Just like the galaxy _will_ be, once it’s under First Order’s righteous rule. He drank deep, enjoying the cool sensation, and then swallowed a couple of painkillers. 

> Shower first, then a shave, then a fresh, clean uniform (he tried to raise the collar as high as he could to hide the bruises), and then he combed his hair back, gelling it in place. Finally the mirror reflected a prim and proper general fit to lead the Order. When he returned to the living room, he found his mug of tea waiting for him along with a rather reproachful-looking ball of ginger fluff and K-4, who appeared to have something else to say besides expressing sincere hopes that he’d enjoy the beverage. 

> “Anything else?” he asked as he poured some cat foot into one of Millicent’s dishes made of pure cortosis. 

> “Yes. There is a visitor waiting to see you, sir.” The droid said with its placid voice. 

> “A visitor?” He repeated. For a second he thought that maybe Kylo Ren wanted to discuss their next proceedings, but the notion itself was ridiculous. Their new Supreme Leader was as much a strategist as Armitage himself was a Jedi. 

> “Yes. It is Lieutenant Stynnix.” 

> Jogging his memory brought forth the image of a young, dark-haired girl. Lusica Stynnix. One of the survivors brought onboard after the destruction of the _Supremacy_. 

> “Let her in.” 

> The protocol droid disappeared with a slight bow and returned a moment later with the girl in its tow. 

> She was a small thing, that Lusica Stynnix. Almost too small and too young, as was the case of many First Order officers. Her eyes had this sort of a haunted look in them, but otherwise one could never tell she just lost the only home she had possibly known. As was proper for one of her standing. 

> “Well?” he asked, sipping at his tea. Judging by the soft creaking sounds her gloved hands made as she clutched her datapad, Lieutenant Stynnix was somewhat nervous. 

> “Sir, Captain Peavey charged me with notifying you of the most recent updates on the _Finalizer’_ s status.” 

> “Very well. Let’s hear them.” 

> He sighed internally and braced himself for the upcoming bad news. 

> As it turned out, the Star Destroyer received some damage to the sensor towers, shield projector, and the secondary thrust nozzle. They’ve also lost a couple of turbolaser batteries, and the hangar entrance was rather singed. None of this was particularly good, but at least the damage to the hyperdrive generator didn’t turn out to be as catastrophic as his mind painted it. 

> And as for their whereabouts - the status was still unknown. 

> Armitage ended up questioning her rather extensively on even the less significant injuries to both the ship and her crew. More than he’d usually deem necessary. Lieutenant Stynnix did not disappoint though, and as she listed the numerous, _numerous_ details, her overly stiff posture began to relax. When the creaking of her leather gloves finally subsided as well, he asked her to relay a couple of orders back to Captain Peavey. Using the comm would’ve certainly been much faster, but Armitage recognised the importance of assigning jobs to their newcomers. After all, idle hands were the trademark tools of the Republic and the _Finalizer_ had no room for useless crew. 

> The girl was already on her way out, when he remembered one last thing. 

> “Oh, and Lieutenant Stynnix.” He called out after her, causing her to whip around to face him. 

> “Yes, General Hux? 

> “What of K-… of Supreme Leader Ren?” 

> “He hasn’t left his quarters yet, sir. To my knowledge, that is.” 

> The young officer left and Armitage raised his mug one more time, only to find out it was empty. 

> _Kriffin’ idiot can’t even fix the mess he made_ , he thought to himself, half-worrying half-hoping that it would be enough to rouse their Moping Wonder of a Supreme Leader out of his den of woe; but alas - nothing happened. 

> Noticing that the pain-numbing effect of his meds had already sunk into his aching muscles and joints, Armitage stood up and checked his uniform in the mirror one last time. A shadow of a bruise showed above the rim of his collar, but there was nothing that could be done about this, so he threw his trusty greatcoat over his shoulders, brushed a non-existent speck of dust off its lapel, petted Millicent’s head one last time, and set off in the direction of the bridge. 


	2. Shadows of a ruined past

> Once he arrived at the bridge, Armitage was greeted with the usual amount of respect. Actually, perhaps more than the usual. The reason for that was right outside those viewports. A nameless void with nameless stars. What could it be? Were they about to skirt the edge of that supermassive black hole in the centre of the Deep Core? Were they leaving the galaxy altogether? The grim truth was - even if they _would_ manage to fix their hyperdrive, there can’t be a jump without a known starting point. 

> And so, after listening to several reports each more exhaustingly detailed than the last, he called for an emergency meeting in the assembly room. He was followed by Captain Peavey, his own personal staff Captain Opan and Petty Officer Paze, as well as officers Mitaka, Kaplan, Unamo, Stynnix, and the still-recovering Thanisson. The last two would not be usually present on such an occasion, but there were many orders that needed to be issued and no time to spare. 

> After a brief moment of hesitation he decided to have Supreme Leader Ren notified as well, but there was no answer. As expected. _Well, it’s the idea that counts_ , Armitage thought rather cheerfully to himself, waited for the caf to be brought, and then officially commenced the meeting. 

> The next several hours saw theories being constructed, discussions had and suggestions made until well after lunchtime. Slowly but surely strategies were being crafted with the ample help of holoprojections from damaged sectors of the ship and other reports of other, lesser ranking yet not insignificant crew members, and of course, predictions and guesses were made as well. Of the impact of _Finalizer’s_ absence on First Order as a whole, of the amount of its attackers, of the reactions of their comrades, now left without a word or clue about their whereabouts. No one wanted to hear them, but there was an unspoken agreement that it was best to prepare for what was to come. 

> The younger officers mostly listened with rapt attention, waiting for their infrequent turn to speak, but to them that was a lesson in itself. Every now and then a protocol droid entered with steaming mugs of fresh caf to replace the empty ones, while softly reminding them of their meals being kept hot in the kitchens, but as Armitage ignored it, so did everyone else. He had no one leave until all were made perfectly clear of their respective priorities and duties. Once that was achieved, the meeting concluded. 

> Armitage remained planted in his seat even after the door slid shut behind Paze’s back. With everyone else gone, the general was left to stare at the smooth, grey surface of the wall, while fighting the urge to massage his throbbing temples. 

> How odd it was, to a hold meeting without Phasma. Without her stoic, commanding presence and that conspicuous armour of hers which he regarded both wonderfully majestic and splendidly tacky, but alas - such is the life of a soldier. Though he commended her on her duty, he was in no particular mood to mourn. Not while the rest of them was still there - and in such dire circumstances to boot. Maybe one day he would build a new weapon, one even fiercer than the Starkiller, and use it to turn Parnassos into fine stardust. He was sure Phasma would love that. 

> He most certainly _did not_ heave a sigh. 

> _What would father possibly think of her loss?_ He thought to himself, a tiny smile suddenly tugging at the corner of his mouth. Yes. What would he think? What would he think if he could see his son in charge of the _Finalizer_ , effortlessly managing this crisis? If he could see others gazing at him with respect, waiting for his opinions and decisions to determine their next actions? 

> He had often imagined the man, and today was no different. 

> He pictured _Commandant Brendol Hux_ as a sack of fluids, fat and brittle bones, floating in his useless bacta tank. A pale, inhuman looking, hutt-like abomination, bloated grotesquely due to the venom of a tiny beetle. A creature which he would’ve had no trouble crushing under the sole of his boot. Which he would’ve crushed just because he _could_. Back then, when his body reached that stage, he was no longer conscious, however that was not a mercy his son’s imagination cared to bestow upon him. No; Armitage pictured him watching the meeting and all his accomplishments with it. Resentfully and utterly helplessly. 

> _How easy was it to replace you…_ Armitage chuckled in his mind. 

> _Now who’s useless._

> Finally he switched the lights off and followed the others for a couple of bites to eat. On route he watched a couple of mouse droids zoom by and silently noted the perfect imperial salutations of troopers who crossed his path. 

> It was like any other day on the ship. 

> Except now they were damaged and stranded in some godforsaken edge of the universe, just because that dirty scumbag most likely used the credits he was paid with by the First Order to buy several Republic ships for his cause, whatever that was. 

> When Armitage left the officers’ cafeteria, it was almost tea time. Once more he returned to the bridge to hear the newest updates. To his satisfaction, everything up there was running like finely-tuned clockwork. No useless chatter or shameful slacking. An exemplary model of efficiency. He nodded in approval and turned around to return to his quarters, but after several steps he paused. 

> The holoprojector was still hanging from the ceiling. 

> He tensed up. An involuntary reaction. From the corner of his eye he noted several confused looks aimed in his direction. Clenching his fists he set off again, his pace brisk, and left the present staff to continue with their duties. 

> The same staff which had witnessed all those reprimands and punishments he had to take just because…

> _…because things had the tendency to stray away from even the most carefully crafted plans._

> And that was not his fault. 

> His strategies were flawless. 

> The one at fault-

> As he overrode the security code, the door in front of him opened and let Armitage into a room close to his own quarters. 

> The inside was clean, almost sterile, but mostly because there was hardly anything to mess up. Shiny black floor polished to an almost mirror-like sheen, stark walls without even a single painting or projection. An undrunk cup of caf, forgotten on the table. Pedestal with the ruined, half-melted shadow of the Imperial past, now covered by black cloth. And a man, kneeling on the floor, his posture relaxed, head slightly bowed, eyes half-lidded but unseeing. There was a rather curious expression on his face. 

> “Supreme Leader Ren. Perhaps you’d like to hear the updates on our current situation?” Armitage suggested, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He could feel the effect of his painkillers slowly wearing off and his body was in too much of a mess to be slammed against another hard surface. 

> No response. 

> “…Supreme Leader?” 

> The silence of the room was the silence of a void. 

> _“Kylo Ren.”_

> Not even sharp tones had any effect, save for making Armitage start to feel stupid, as if he just tried to get the attention of a computer console or a refrigerator. 

> He loomed over the meditating man, hands behind his back, his left index-finger sliding across the edge of his right sleeve. Feeling the stiffness in it. The blade of a hidden monomolecular dagger. Wouldn’t it be just too easy to sever the new Supreme Leader‘s (all hail him) spinal cord? 

> Yes. Yes, it would. And at the same time most likely fatal, but not to Ren. 

> Armitage scoffed at the younger man’s impulsiveness, at his poor self-control and short-sightedness, but Kylo Ren was not as stupid as to make such an easy target of himself, and he, Armitage that is, knew next to nothing of the tricks Force-users had up _their_ sleeves. Best not to act hasty. 

> Still. That expression on Ren’s face. Somehow Armitage found it even more annoying than that silence of his. There was longing. There was also despair, and a little dash of urgency, all of it so faint, that if Armitage hadn’t known Kylo Ren for years, he’d probably never recognise them for what they were. It dawned on him that though kneeling in a stationary position on board of the _Finalizer_ , the Supreme Leader was someplace else. Searching for someone. Even at this time. And the search had nothing to do with their predicament. 

> A wrong kind of search in the wrong kind of time. 

> Armitage clicked his tongue in displeasure and left the room and its statue-like dweller behind. A couple of steps later he entered his quarters and petted Millicent who rushed to greet him with her tail raised like an exclamation mark. As soon as he washed his medication down with several gulps of water, K-4 informed him of an incoming message. 

> “General Hux?” a young, female voice asked. 

> “Yes, lieutenant Stynnix?” he answered, starting to feel too weary to fully conceal his annoyance. He wanted to rest for a while and wait for the pain to subside. 

> “Sir, you better come and see. We have found a planet.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written with the ample help of music from 'the Dune', 'Solaris', 'True detective', and 'Annihilation'.


	3. Winds of obsidian

> Ever since he had left Arkanis, the planet of his birth, Armitage Hux had seen many strange worlds. Naturally, there were no two alike. Some were bustling with urban life, others teemed with lush forests, while others, still, were nothing but dead mounds of minerals and gasses. People on some were stuck in centuries-spanning civil wars, while on others they drifted through life in an idle, drug-induced haze. Once he even had the dubious fortune to visit a place, which could’ve only been described as a planet-wide mausoleum full of desiccated bodies tightly bound in ropes. 

> With that in mind, the world on the holoscreen in front of him was nothing special. 

> It seemed to be a sphere of tar, bathed in the reddish glow of a dwarf star which lent it an eerie, rust-like tinge. The planet’s poles were jigsaws of pink-hued white, alternately covered and uncovered by weird, purplish black clouds reminiscent of rotting cluster-eels of Kamino or the dissected lekku of a Twi’lek. 

> Armitage frowned and tried not to have his eyes throw daggers at Lieutenant Stynnix. 

> Sure the planet was almost as weird as the contents of his father’s hidden drawer (the one at the bottom of his writing desk), but surely she didn’t need _him_ to tell her that. One look at the holo of this planet, at its surroundings, and he knew all he needed to know. Its orbit around the brown dwarf was too uneven and the star itself too cold to sustain life. Nevertheless, he trusted he was dragged out of his quarters for a reason. 

> “Anything worthy of notice?” he asked, turning away from the holo to look at Lieutenant Mitaka, who almost smiled in response. 

> “Indeed, sir. Long-range scans have found something. Signs of structures, sir. Buildings. Ancient, judging by the erosion and their general state; but…”

> “It’s the best shot we currently have to ascertain our position.” Armitage finished, while inspecting a new, unclear image, which hovered right in front of him. Just like Mitaka said, it showed something akin to tall steeples in shapes of twisted hexagonal prisms, their edges deformed as if melted. Some seemed to have been snapped in half at some point, while others had toppled over and now lay half-buried in the dark sand of the barren land. Towers of black built from the land of black. 

> “No signs of life?” 

> “None so far, sir.” 

> “Set the course for the planet then. How long until we reach it?” 

> “About twenty hours, sir.” 

> “Very well. I want a small recon party assembled and briefed. Troopers plus droids. But repairing the damage on this ship is still our number one priority. Also, I want everyone here to stay _cautious and sharp._ ” He raised his voice a little, letting his eyes travel over the sunken workstations and their denizens. “Have the lasers ready in case we encounter life-forms which aren’t extinct _yet.”_

> And with that he retreated back into his quarters, thinking about telling K-4 to get him something potent to drink. 

> Within the privacy of his rooms he slipped out of his greatcoat and made himself comfortable on the sofa. Millicent took the opportunity to jump on his lap and bump her head against his chin. Scratching her absent-mindedly between her lovely triangular ears, he stared at the ceiling. 

> Unknown whereabouts. Damaged ship. The _Supremacy_ gone. Were they to lose the other supremacy as well? He refused to believe that. Their standing was in jeopardy, yes, but he could still hope. _He_ could still _fix_ this. The loss of their flagship was devastating, but where the general public was concerned, the effect of the Hosnian Example held much more significance. All they needed to do was to tighten the hold on what they’ve already achieved. Though perhaps they could create new supply and trade routes controlled exclusively by the First Order, and destroy the old ones along with their corrupt official, smugglers and thieves. And then, once the situation would stabilize, the First Order would extend its hand again and reap. 

> Fingers which had petted the orange tabby’s head gradually slowed down until their movements stilled altogether. The hand fell in the lap and this was where Millicent decided to curl up. And so, as the _Finalizer_ slowly but surely neared the barren black planet, both the general and his cat fell fast asleep. 

> > * * *
> 
> AX-1221 sat along with three other stormtroopers and several probe droids in a tightly packed transporter. She was glad that BR-0510 had been selected to join the recon party as well. There was something calming about that smooth mask of his; that and the flamethrower in his hands. She _only_ had her much-cherished Sonn-Blas F-11D rifle along with a smaller pistol. Nothing that could hope to match the effectiveness of a flamethrower in close quarters combat, at least in her opinion. 

> She was roused from her musings by being thrown against the padded safety rail again, the third time in the last five minutes. Their descent was a lively one. The planet down below was apparently covered by thick layers of dense clouds. Luckily every now and then a tear appeared within those and their pilot took these opportunities to skilfully navigate their craft towards the biggest cluster of alien buildings the scans of the planet had found. 

> Even though their route was relatively clear, there was much clanging and creaking in the hull and at the background of it all, a dull kind of droning accompanied or perhaps caused by an incessant trembling of the whole transporter. Still, AX-1221 had faith in First Order’s technology, as this technology brought her as far as the _Finalizer_ , all the way from the gods-forsaken wastelands of her birth-planet. 

> Although the sounds of strained machinery occasionally reached almost deafening levels (or would’ve reached, had their helmets not filtered out most of the noise), none of the humans on board cared to comment on that with as much as a curse. BR-0510 lovingly stroked the muzzle of his flamethrower, SN-0799 gently tapped a finger against the plating of her armour, most likely humming some song to herself, and OD-7653 appeared to have been napping. After all, it was just another drop, except for the fact that their armour was hermetically sealed and re-breathers were strapped to their backs. 

> Just another drop. 

> And this time there was no danger of incoming X-wings that would make mincemeat out of their less-careful or unlucky comrades. No X-wings, no insurgents, no complaining populace which thought that pelting them with over-ripe fruit or stones wouldn’t rouse an immediate response. 

> After a while the transporter touched down. 

> It wasn’t particularly hard to find a landing zone, as there were almost no obstructions. The landing itself was a smooth one. By then most sounds, which had accompanied their descent, have ceased save for the droning. Boarding ramp was lowered and the four of them marched out, accompanied by the droids. 

> AX-1221 looked around. The natural light of the planet was dim enough to necessitate the use of some additional sources along with her helmet’s polarised lenses, and no wonder. Below the clouds of the distant horizon, there was a curious sight to be seen. A sphere of rusty brown, streaked with stripes of fire. A brown dwarf. Too weak to illuminate, too faint to warm. 

> “Looks like I’m too late.” BR-0510 remarked, looking around and really - the whole planet was scorched and melted down to bedrock. 

> The ground around them resembled a frozen sea of crude oil. It rose and fell in gentle, shiny waves, which had fissured and cracked on many places like a drought-stricken riverbed. As probes scanned the area with their cones of blinding white light, they revealed a great number of odd, flattish, cone-shaped structures made of the very same matter as the ground. As wind passed through their numerous holes, it made the strangest whistling noises. Noises which sent tingles down AX-1221’s spine, though she wouldn’t exactly call them unpleasant. They were just… different. 

> “This place makes me feel like getting a liquorice stick.” came from OD-7653, as he tapped the ground with his boot. 

> “What is a _liquorice_?” AX-1221 asked, wondering whether it’s some kind of a weapon. OD-7653 was rather proficient in melee combat after all. 

> “It’s-“ the other stormtrooper wanted to explain, but before he could proceed, a chiding voice from their comm-link shut them all up. 

> _“Cut the useless chatter. This is a reconnaissance mission, not a field trip.”_

> It wasn’t Captain Phasma. (It will never be Captain Phasma again, AX-1221 thought to herself, not sure whether she’s relieved or sad.) It was the General himself. 

> “Apologies, Gen’ral Hux.” BR-0510 said in his typical languid manner and other troopers were quick to follow his example. 

> “Proceed with the mission.” 

> BR-0510 moved his fingers and the team split. 

> In accordance with their previous briefing, AX-1221 went with the flametrooper while SN-0799 paired up with OD-7653. Each had three probe droids to assist them as well as a couple of DSD1s repurposed for sample collecting. As they walked, BR-0510 pointed out the best spots to take samples from, while AX-1221 scanned their surroundings for any signs of danger, rifle prepare to fire. 

> Slowly but surely they advanced towards their actual destination, the right one of two humongous, _Finalizer_ -sized towers, all twisted and deformed. Their appearance reminded AX-1221 of her birth planet; of teppa-trees split by lightning, vainly trying to fix themselves by bleeding globs of thick resin. 

> Those two towers did not stand alone. They were surrounded by a number of much smaller and far less impressive ones. Somehow that whole landscape had the appearance of a gigantic graveyard. A memorial for ones long gone. AX-1221 felt a slight twinge of envy. 

> Nevertheless she forced herself to tear her gaze away from the towers and pay attention to her surroundings and, more importantly, the surface beneath her feet. 

> It turned out that walking on the ground wasn’t as easy as it appeared. Those glass-like waves sometimes cracked under the soles of their boots and the layer beneath them was porous and brittle. Soon they learned they had to avoid walking on those wide, undulating crests and weave their way in the valleys between them instead. The incessant wind pushed them forward and AX-1221 longed to take her helmet off. It’s been a while since she felt the cool touch of a breeze against her cheeks. 

> Suddenly a powerful gust of wind made her feet wobble and slip. Those droning, howling noises became so deafening, she had to readjust her sensors again. 

> “Watch out.” She heard BR-0510’s voice loud and clear. “Gravity ‘ere isn’ as strong as on the _Fin’lizer_ an’ with winds this strong, you’ll lose your footing in no time.” 

> She nodded in appreciation. The flametrooper didn’t tell her anything she wasn’t already aware of, but it was calming to hear his voice. 

> When they finally reached their destination, a probe droid informed them of an opening. It was on the eastern side. A strange, irregular fissure good ten metres in height, rather narrow and _very_ uneven. BR-0510 sent the droid in along with a DSD1 unit and AX-1221 watched both robots disappear in darkness so thick, it seemed almost palpable. Now they had the wait for an _all-clear_ sign. 

> As she stood next to the fissure, blaster-rifle still readied, AX-1221 looked up at the sky and noticed that the hole in the clouds, which their pilot had used to get them planet-side, began to close. Long, soft-looking tendrils of gas stretched across it like the threads of a darned sock. The stormtrooper bit her lip. There was something uncanny about the sight. Especially about the speed with which those cloudy threads bloated into a dense, homogenous mass. 

> “I wonder what kind of rain would fall from these clouds…” she muttered to herself. 

> “I don’ see any signs of rainfall.” BR-0510 answered, his face also turned upwards. “Damn sun blasted all moisture right off. Crazy kriffin’ bastard.” He added, the slightest hint of jealousy in his voice. 

> _“You two. Silence.”_ Crackled their comms. 

> Their simultaneous apology echoed back to the bridge of the _Finalizer_. 

> > * * *
> 
> Finally they received the signal and entered the building. 

> As they proceeded with their mission, AX-1221 thought back to her childhood years spent on the planet of her birth. 

> Back then, she had kept close to her hideout in the basement of a small abandoned structure, long since reclaimed by the forests, but every now and then she made longer journeys to the Rot-tooth towers or the Iron Webnest. The latter especially was a weird location. Later she learned it was a _comm-array_ , but at that time those words as well as their meaning were unknown to her. 

> The Iron Webnest - it might’ve been abandoned, it might’ve not. She never learned. The woods around it were eerily quiet. Even gutkurrs avoided the place and rupings downright abhorred it, though for some reason local insects grew to unusual sizes around those parts and made some very irregular noises. Noises similar to the ones the Webnest constantly emitted. She didn’t know what had happened in there and she wasn’t sure whether anyone else did. There was no one to ask, not a single person to talk to. Until the First Order had picked her up, there were long stretches of time when she hadn’t uttered a single word. It was easier and wiser to stay silent and listen. Observe. Watch millions of slate-eater beetles rise up in the air and darken the skies during the infrequent occasions when the song of the Iron Webnest died out. Hear the skies fill up with the droning of slate-eaters, angered by the silence of their nest. 

> Those beetles refused to return back on the ground unless the Webnest renewed its song, and if its silence stretched on long enough, they would die from hunger or exhaustion and pelt the Webnest along with surrounding forests with their fist-sized corpses. No matter how high the slate-eater beetles rose and how deafening a droning they made, they were still bound to come crashing down, having died for the whim of what might’ve essentially been a god to them. 

> AX-1221 shuddered a bit as the light from her helmet passed a series of strange squiggles on one of the inner walls. BR-0510 gave her a look, but she just shrugged, not wanting to get scolded by the General again. 

> Eventually they had to return outside. Their survey was shorter than planned, for the interior of the towers had nothing akin to corridors or stairs, only dozens and dozens of chambers connected by fairly narrow passageways penetrating both walls _and_ ceilings as if their makers paid no heed to gravity. (Though the likelier explanation was that these structures were simply incomplete, with whatever furnishings and fittings they might’ve had having burnt away along with almost everything else on the planet.) 

> The team met up again before too long. 

> “Anythin’ of note?” BR-0510 asked. 

> “Hard to say. Just some scrawling on several inner walls. Maybe someone can make some sense out of it; hopefully.” Answered SN-0799. 

> “The inside of our tower looked like holey cheese.” Added OD-7653. “And yours?” 

> “What is a _cheese_?” AX-1221 asked. 

> “It’s a delicious, delicious food made of fatty milk. It’s so good it makes me want to-“

> _“If I have to reprimand you one last time, it’ll be sanitation duty for all four of you._ ” A cold voice cut the stormtrooper off. 

> > * * *
> 
> As they walked back towards their transport with their swarm of droids in tow, AX-1221 noticed that the hole in the clouds had all but vanished. Velvety black tendrils lazily reached for the last bit of sky where unfamiliar stars flickered with a faint russet hue and plugged it all up. 

> In contrast to the lethargic movement above, the winds on the ground grew stronger by the moment. As AX-1221 climbed back into the familiar austerity of the transport, she gave the skies above one last, worried glance. 

> She realised that although the clouds loomed heavy and foreboding, they must’ve actually been really high up, for the rising gale had absolutely no effect on them. She even spotted groups of smaller ones, much different with their strangely phosphorescent yellowish-whiteness, as they were chased across the sky like a flock of fledgling rupings, separating into thin fibres only to combine in thicker ropes again. 

> And then BR-0510 put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her inside, just as the ramp began to rise. 

> “Buckle up properly, everyone. It’ll be a bumpy flight.” OZ-9312, their pilot, warned them. 

> AX-1221 quickly moved into her position and BR-0510 thumped her helmet encouragingly with his fist before doing likewise. She smiled a little, but even then she couldn’t quite rid her ears of what might’ve been either the howl of wind passing through the obsidian flute-towers, or swarms of slate-eater beetles, droning through her memories. 

> Soon enough the rattling, clanging and creaking began anew. The transport trembled, then it shuddered, then lurched from side to side. The troopers inside were suddenly thrust forwards and back so hard their safety rails creaked. Alarms rang all through the transport as lights flickered on and off. Several places erupted with sparks. 

> “Oz, what’s goin’ on o’er there?” BR-0510 asked, his voice calm even now. 

> “H-hold on. There’s some heavy-… the controls are a bit… what the hell are th-“ 

> OZ-9312 was suddenly cut off by another heavy jolt. The whole transport made a somersault, but then its ion engines roared to life and propelled it forward towards safety. AX-1221 kept her eyes shut tight. She felt as if every last drop of blood was squeezed out of her chest and into her extremities. Her thoughts were stuck with the collapsing curtains of slate-eater beetles. 

> And then it suddenly all came to an end. The shaking, the noises, sparks… only the rapid beats of her heart pounding against her ear-drums remained. 

> “We made it.” OZ-9312 announced, relief audible in her voice. “Everyone okay back there?” 

> “Yeah, we’re good.”BR-0510 answered. 

> AX-1221 looked to her side. It appeared that OD-7653 was fighting the urge to fill his helmet up with vomit. She was glad she wasn’t the only one. 

> > * * *
> 
> The rest of the journey was an uneventful blur as she tried to relax and maybe nap a little. By the time she opened her eyes again, the transporter was about to land safely in the _Finalizer’_ s hangar bay. As soon as it did, the maintenance crew immediately rushed in to hose it down with disinfectants just in case there was _some_ life left on the scorched planet after all. 

> AX-1221 thanked gods for their survival and resisted the impulse to pull off her helmet and shower the floor with kisses. 

> And high, high above, in the quarters of senior command staff, Kylo Ren woke up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I proofread these chapters, I do so with January LaVoy's voice stuck in my head. Her voice is great.


	4. The spine of a paper slip

> Armitage stood on the bridge with Captain Peavey hovering nearby and observed the many, many holos projected in front of him. Ever since the transporter had left the _Finalizer_ with its tiny crew on board, he hardly moved an inch. Other personnel came and went - officers notified him of the ongoing repairs, of the stats of the planet below… and of the continuous lack of any ideas where they were, of course. 

> The last one was the most infuriating. 

> Having no contact with the known galaxy pulled at his nerves. Ironically, now in the great beyond, which was surely much bigger - _inconceivably_ so in fact, than what was captured on First Order’s galactic holomaps, he felt like an animal trapped in too small a cage. There was no telling what the status of the rest of the Order was. Did they flee? Did they continue to conquer and expand? Did they prudently hold their fort and refrain from spreading their already thinned forces? 

> _“…Looks like I’m too late.”_ Came the garbled voice over the comm as if it was some malevolent prophesy, even though he recognised the drawl of BR-0510, the fire-loving flametrooper. 

> The signal wasn’t very good. 

> It appeared that strong winds raged on the ground of the charred sphere below. Winds which, according to forecasts, would only grow stronger. Too bad those bloated clouds with their serpentine protuberances hung too high up to be swayed by the gales of the surface. 

> _“I wonder what kind of rain would fall from these clouds…”_ AX-1221’s musing passed through the bridge, wistful and wind-like. 

> Armitage frowned. What was with those comments? So irritating. 

> Then again, that was to be expected, as for this mission he specifically requested expendables - but those not completely useless. Just in case the inhospitable shell of the planet half-eaten by its own sun would turn out even less accommodating than it appeared. Lieutenant Stynnix had presented him their files earlier, so he had some insight into their personalities. A veteran pyromaniac, an airheaded loner, an oblivious oddball and a song-loving amateur musician. That such people existed even after First Order’s extensive conditioning…

> Perhaps Cardinal could’ve provided him with some explanations in this regard. Too bad about him. Some people were just too… _inflexible_ for their own good. 

> Once both stormtrooper teams entered their respective destinations, the bridge of the _Finalizer_ went completely quiet. Everyone followed the progress of both humans and droids as they mapped every inch of the towers’ interior they had access to. Every curve, every line, every glint of volcanic glass as it glittered in the cold beams of flashlights. 

> Armitage observed their every single step, desperately trying to find a lead. At one point he’d been told that his lunch was ready. He shushed the intruder away. Somewhat later Lieutenant Mitaka quietly assured him that Millicent had been fed. Shortly after that Stynnix appeared with a mug of caf which he was silently grateful for. 

> The whole mission starting with the departure of the transporter and ending with its return took eight whole hours. As the vessel passed through the thickening cloudscape, it lost contact with the _Finalizer_ for a couple of moments. Armitage noticed how everyone on the bridge held their breath. Funny, what the fate of one little ship could do to the rest of the crew when they were under strenuous conditions. 

> Finally the weather-beaten transporter touched down on the floor of the hanger. In one piece and relatively unscathed. Crew disembarked and was sent through the disinfectant showers to the med-bay to get their shots. This was crucial to people living in the pure, sterile environment of First Order’s warships. Halt any and all diseases. Destroy them before they spread. Even if one has to cauterize the flesh or amputate a limb. 

> It was then when he received the message over his comm-link. 

> His fingers twitched. His hands opened and closed. Suddenly the air passing through his windpipe felt somewhat too dry, too coarse, the skin of his throat too tight. As if it was there again. That unnatural feeling. That unnatural… _force_. 

> The humiliation. 

> He felt eyes watching him as he left the bridge. The same eyes which had drank in the sight of him rising after being pinned to the ground. With lip busted and hair all tousled. Like back then, when he… when the other children…

> Armitage shook his head to chase the memory away. He was a General of the First Order. Such behaviour was unbecoming. Spine of steel, voice of bronze. Just like the good Grand Admiral. 

> He knocked twice - or attempted to. Before he could finish the second knock, the door in front of him opened. 

> This was not Kylo Ren’s room, but rather the one added to it upon his request. One which included a raised chair with a high back-rest. A makeshift throne surrounded by half a dozen of holoscreens, all of them dark and blind right now. But that throne-like chair, draped in thick black fabric, was occupied. 

> Kylo Ren sat there. _Supreme Leader_ Kylo Ren. 

> Armitage stepped into the room without a word of greeting. _Habit_ was a force upon itself. 

> “Supreme Leader Ren. You wished to see me?” Armitage asked, trying to keep all sarcasm and bitterness away. 

> “Hux.” The Supreme Leader uttered softly, his eyes narrowed. “What is the meaning of this?” 

> “I’m not sure I understand. Supreme Leader.” 

> “The… _deployment_. Why wasn’t I notified?” 

> Armitage wasn’t sure what to say. There were so many options. _So many…_

> “Well?” 

> “Do you not think-… I have tried.” Armitage changed the tone of his voice at the very last moment. 

> “Tried _what?_ ” 

> “Tried to wake you.” 

> “Did you…shake me?” Kylo Ren asked in an almost playful manner. But Armitage was not humoured. 

> “I called out to you. You didn’t answer. I tried. But you were obviously busy. Looking for something, perhaps. Something… or _someone._ ” 

> “What do you mean by that, _General?_ ” 

> The question was uttered in a breezy, nonchalant way, but there were sharp blades hidden beneath. Armitage was well aware of that. As well as he felt that invisible _something_ brush against his throat. But he… he just couldn’t keep quiet. Not after all those long hours, after all that unease, those yearning, lost gazes of his crew. 

> _Steel in my spine, bronze in my voice._

> “You were irresponsible, Supreme Leader.” He told Ren flatly, looking him straight in the eyes. 

> “Irresponsible?” 

> “Yes. Irresponsible. Only now you chose to wake up. We are lost in a foreign star system. Contact with the rest of the fleet interrupted. The ship damaged. Yet you, though you call yourself the Supreme Leader, decided to chase after _some scavenger_ rather than to speak to the men you decided to call yours. You chose not to help _the Order_ and pursued your own desires instead.” 

> “You speak as if you know of-“

> _“What do you know of commanding a ship, when you haven’t received even an ounce of training? What do you know of leading people- and I’m not talking about those Force-sensitive scarecrows of yours. How can you proclaim yourself the Supreme Leader and then… choose not to lead at all? You are laughable! You pretend you cut your strings, but there you are, dancing anyway! Dancing until you-“_

> It was then when the Supreme Leader’s patience ran out, just as Armitage predicted it would. 

> Armitage gasped for air - but there was no air to be gasped. Only the horrible pressure on his trachea. He unwittingly clawed at his throat, but that look in Ren’s eyes, that still-uncomprehending look… that was not something that ought to be reflected in a Supreme Leader’s eyes. 

> Rage swelled up within him. His blood burned hot and his heart pounded in his ears like the thundering of Finalizer’s ventral cannons. He clawed, but not at his throat. He clawed at Ren. This was not how it was supposed to be. This was not something Armitage was supposed to see. How could Ren…? _How big an idiot was he?_

> And then the corner of Armitage’s vision began to turn black. It was not the colour of obsidian and ashes covering the planet below, but rather the void and oblivion of space. He saw his father, melting in a tank of bacta liquid. He saw Grand Admiral Sloane sighing one of her world-weary sighs. He saw Fleet Admiral Rax, sunken in one of his operas, shutting him, the world, everything out. 

> Then it came to him. A strange and peaceful thought which made the rage evaporate in an instant. It was such an odd idea; he had trouble acknowledging it as his own. 

> Just a little bit more, and it would all be over. And he would be free. And all of this would be someone else’s problem. And there would be no pain and no humiliation. And no one would announce loudly in front of others that he was ashamed of him. They were all stardust and they were meant to return to stardust once they’ve played out their roles. There would be no more vigils on the bridge and sleepless nights when he tried to decipher this or make sense of that. 

> No more hurt. 

> Just a comforting kind of peace, like huddling under a warm blanket. 

> Just-…

> He wasn’t sure what had happened, but suddenly he found himself lying on the ground, coughing and gasping for air. And the Supreme Leader… _kriff that_. Kylo Ren was straddling him. His huge hands clutched the collar of the General’s torn uniform. Armitage felt a surge of alarm, but there was nothing he could do. He could hardly move his fingers. 

> “W-what is that…?” Kylo Ren blurted out. What was the look in his eyes? Disappointment? Shock? Armitage was too woozy to tell. The first touch of those gloved fingers on the yellowish purple bruises mottling his throat made him cringe and desperately search for a way out, and since escape was not an option, then at least to roll over and protect his vitals. But he couldn’t do any of those things. He was too weak, just like back then. So at least he shut his eyes. 

> When he looked up again after what seemed like hours, the look he spotted in Ren’s eyes did definitely _not_ suit a Supreme Leader; it was one of regret. 

> Their eyes met. 

> Armitage wanted to pelt that man with a full barrage of unpleasant words, but he was too week. 

> “…sorry.” escaped the lips of the Supreme Leader. “I’m sorry. I… didn’t mean to.” 

> Not believing his ears, Armitage tried to shake his head. It was an… _interesting experience,_ to stay at the very least. 

> “P-pathetic….” He rasped. 

> “Pathetic?” Kylo Ren repeated clearly taken aback. 

> “T-the Supreme Leader. Spine o…of steel. Voice of b…ronze.” 

> “What do you mean by that?” asked Kylo Ren as stood up, eyeing the coughing man at his feet with wary unease. 

> Armitage could not stand up. He tried, but his knees buckled under his own weight and he fell back to the ground and started to cough again. How useless. Like a slip of paper. Like a blaster with an empty cartridge. 

> No matter how close his room was, he couldn’t reach it. All he could do was to bat the hesitatingly offered hand away; only to find himself dragged to the nearest couch anyway. 

> “What did you mean?” the Supreme Leader asked again, once he put a several steps worth of distance between the two of them. 

> “Right now, you have neither.” Armitage muttered, afraid that using any louder kind of tone would aggravate his throat again. 

> With those words, he braced himself for another beat-down. After all, this is what happens when one talks back. When one is snappy. Or when one is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or when one simply _is_. 

> He looked up. Kylo Ren was staring down at him, his expression unreadable. Then the slightest of frowns crossed his scarred features and he turned on his heel, storming out of the room without even a single word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter posted, so now I can return to writing about small Armitage and his adventures in the Unknown Regions.


	5. Flickers

> After the safe return of the transporter with its slightly shaken crew, a pair of maintenance workers marched in and began to hose down and scrub the vessel, cleaning it from dust and various kinds of debris it had accumulated during its short trip to the planet below. It was not the most exciting or important of jobs, but there were worse kinds of occupations on the _Finalizer._
> 
> Both troopers worked diligently, starting at the protuberance of the cockpit. After a while one of them, LD-1986, reached the heat exchanger fins and noticed something stuck between their rows. Tilting her head in confusion, she turned around to grab a bottle of heavy-duty cleaner. It was probably a layer of caked dust, all scorched and melted, but there was no dirt that good old B-16 couldn’t remove. She gave the grime a generous spraying and moved over to polish the external engine armour as the corrosive did its wonders. 
> 
> When she returned after a while, she found the heat exchanger fins sparkling clean, much to her surprised satisfaction. She had expected at least half an hour of vigorous scrubbing, nevertheless this part of the ship was now shiny enough to make even General Hux nod in approval, so she moved onto the thrusters, idly wondering how long their supply of B-16 would last, now that they were cut off from the fleet. 
> 
> A couple of moments passed. LD-1986 moved her rotating turbo-brush in circular motions and with every move she made, her attention wandered further and further away from the task at hand. Something bothered her. Something… was not the way it was supposed to be. Finally she stopped, turned the turbo-brush off and listened. 
> 
>  
> 
> Then she realized.
> 
> The silence. 
> 
> Two of them worked on the transporter, and yet it’s been a while since she heard anything from LE-2006’s side. Was she slacking off? If so, this was hardly the place to do it. A surprise check would not have been out of the ordinary. Even the astromechs could tattle on them and General Hux was in a fairly bad mood nowadays. Everyone was, actually. Everyone was on edge, and that’s why everyone strove to toe the line as closely as possible. Routine brought comfort in these uncertain times. Peace could only be achieved through order. Peace to the galaxy, through the First Order. 
> 
> “Lee-six?” she asked, noting how curiously lost and scared her voice sounded. 
> 
> No answer. 
> 
> Was she really slacking off? No, that couldn’t be. LE-2006 was a serious, hard-working girl. 
> 
> LD-1986 walked over to the other side of the transporter which was supposed to be her friend’s responsibility. For some reason there was a strange lump in her throat. 
> 
> LE-2006 was there. Lying on the ground, next to the forward repulsor array. The black parts of her shiny betaplast helmet were somehow blacker than they were supposed to be. They were coated in some… _thing_. Right under LD-1986 horrified gaze the matter twitched and her friend’s body twitched with it. It had penetrated the armour. LE-2006’s body spasmed for a moment though the girl herself made no sound. A pool of red began to spread from under it. 
> 
> That roused LD-1986 to action. 
> 
> She rushed to her friend’s side and grabbed the amorphous black thing, or at least tried to, for her fingers closed around nothing. It was like trying to grab the fine river mud from her homeplanet Dantooine. First she tried to scoop it away with her fingers, then she grabbed a cloth, hoping it would do a better job. And then she noticed a pressure on her gloves. The pressure of probing feelers, followed by the horror of _intrusion._
> 
> And then the world imploded into a flash of searing, tearing, all-encompassing agony. 
> 
> Sparks jumped from the turbo-brush as she used it to hammer the thing away in blind panic. Anything would do as long as she’d get rid of those feelers piercing her glove, her skin, her veins and bones. This feverish, loud clanging only lasted for a short while though. Silence soon resumed its reign and the faint, shuffling noises, which remained in the aftermath, did hardly anything to undermine its rule. 
> 
> * * *
> 
> Finding comfort in solitude, Armitage decided to close his eyes for a couple of moments. Just until his legs would stop feeling like jelly. True- he currently found himself in Ren’s rooms, which was not a particularly pleasant feeling, but their usual occupant was gone, most likely sulking someplace or smashing state-of-the-art machinery with his shoddy lightsaber. 
> 
> The next time his eyelids flickered open, he was surprised to see his protocol droid standing above him, a small tray in its spindly arms. He caught a whiff of Tarine tea. 
> 
> He sat up, did his best to make his wrinkled uniform look presentable and slicked his ruffled hair back. His head felt like lead and the softness of the couch sang a siren’s song to his body, but he knew he already rested longer than he had intended. A person of his standing had too many matters to attend to. Slacking like this was almost Ren’s level of idleness. 
> 
> “How long was I out for, Kayfour?” he asked the droid as he grabbed his tea. If nothing else, at least he could speak without rasping again. 
> 
> “You have slept for sixty-one minutes, sir.”
> 
> _Kriff_
> 
> Armitage sipped at his tea. It had gotten tepid by then, but one takes what one can get. 
> 
> “Any updates on our situation? Any emergencies?”
> 
> “Concerning the star system we presently find ourselves in, there have been no updates. There have been no new emergencies either. But you have a personal message from Lieutenant Mitaka. Apparently it is a matter of utmost urgency.”
> 
> “When was it placed?”
> 
> “Forty-three minutes ago.”
> 
> “Very well, tell him to meet me in my office in exactly fifteen minutes.”
> 
> “As you wish, General.”
> 
> Armitage waited until the droid got out of sight and then he gingerly stretched his back. He wanted to make sure he was fit to move on his own again. Pain scraping against his ribs and shoulder told him it was about the time for another dose of meds. As he left Ren’s quarters, he gave them one last glum look, cringing at the pain and embarrassment he had suffered there. 
> 
> On the way to his meeting with Mitaka, Armitage stopped briefly at his own rooms, where Millicent immediately rubbed her body against his ankles. There was no time for a shower, so at the very least he changed his wrinkled uniform for a freshly pressed set and combed his hair. To his dismay, the mirror reflected several new purplish-black bruises on the fair skin his throat, overlapping the older, more yellowish ones; and once again, the collar of his tunic was slightly too low to hide them in their entirety. _All I need is a black eye and a broken nose and the set will be complete_ , he thought to himself grimly and switched the refresher light off. 
> 
>  
> 
> “So what is the _urgent matter,_ Lieutenant Mitaka?” He asked from behind his desk several minutes later. 
> 
> Its tidiness along with the stark elegance of the office as a whole returned some sense of normalcy to his somewhat frayed nerves. This was further amplified by the effect of the fast-acting analgesics, doing away with the stabbing and scraping in his muscles and bones. 
> 
> “Sir, we… may have a problem.” The younger man said. The look in his face betrayed a strange combination of emotions. 
> 
> Yes, there was the usual timid anxiety present whenever circumstances forced him to become the bearer of bad news, and also a kind of a polite, though not fully suppressed bewilderment as he noticed the mess his superior’s throat was in, but there was also… relief? _How odd_ , Armitage thought to himself. 
> 
> “Well now. And here I thought things were going as smooth as the sands of Parnassos. Let’s hear it.”
> 
> Mitaka fidgeted with the cap he was clutching. For a couple of moments his eyes stared at the floor. Armitage chose not to interrupt him and sipped at his freshly made tea, spiced with a dash of brandy from his stash. 
> 
> It didn’t take long and the young lieutenant looked up again. This time there was nothing but purpose in his eyes. 
> 
> “Sir, it appears we have suffered some casualties. Troopers LE-2006 and LD-1986, who were on maintenance duty, have been found dead. Both of them were cleaning the transporter used earlier today. Likewise trooper KT-1503. Another trooper, SN-2011, is missing. Both were on guard duty at the hangar bay.”
> 
> “Three troopers dead… cause of death?”
> 
> “Blood loss, multiple organ damage and multiple fractures on most bones.”
> 
> “So they were crushed to death? Was it an accident?”
> 
> “No, sir. Their armour was almost intact, but it showed signs of penetration in the area of joints. Specifically palms and throat.” 
> 
> Armitage tapped the stylus of his datapad against the desk. He fought the urge to sigh, but with the way things were, he couldn’t allow himself to show any further signs of weakness. 
> 
> “Do we know what caused it?”
> 
> “No, sir.”
> 
> “Any footage from the hangar we can work with?”
> 
> “No, sir. Repairs on security feed and all related systems have been postponed as the crew was diverted to priority locations.”
> 
> Armitage heaved another mental sigh. Once again he was reminded how bad a shape the Finalizer was in. 
> 
> “Very well. Have you notified the Supreme Leader?”
> 
> “W-well, sir, I…” the lieutenant fidgeted with his cap some more and the air of unease returned, thicker than before. Armitage felt a mild twinge of pity for the man, but times were hard. 
> 
> “Do so.”
> 
> “Yes, sir.”
> 
> “What time is it now…? Almost half past six. I want the hangar bay to be sealed off immediately and searched it for any kind of _unwelcome guests._ At eight o’clock sharp, I want all participants of the planetary drop in front of interrogation office 19/B for questioning. Notify the Supreme Leader as well. Just in case he feels like-… just in case he’d like to get involved. Any questions?” he then asked as an afterthought, noticing _something_ about the younger lieutenant. 
> 
> “No sir. It’s just that I… uh… we are happy you are safe.”
> 
> _Oh, so **that’s** what it was about. _
> 
> “I see. Your concern was noted, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”
> 
> Armitage watched Mitaka go, and then craned his neck to look at the lighting fixtures of the ceiling. It was a testament to the strength of his medication that all he felt was a dull kind of ache and stiffness. 
> 
> He almost had to laugh. 
> 
> There was something inherently amusing about the recent succession of events. Every time he thought things couldn’t get any worse… 
> 
> And here they were. 
> 
> He decided to get some food. Though he wasn’t that hungry, he needed to keep his strength. Many officers he met en route to the cafeteria greeted him with the same hint of relief he noticed in Mitaka’s eyes. Sixty one minutes. Strange, what silence of that length was able to cause. Then again, it was not _just_ the silence. It is a sixty-one minute long diversion from his personal routine, and this routine was known to be more steadfast and rigid than the wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk. 
> 
> He nodded here and there to acknowledge the many greetings, but otherwise did nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of character. First Order had managed to pull through many kinds of obstacles and hardships before and compared to some of those, _this_ was but a small incident of little significance. 
> 
>  
> 
> Despite the fact that he chose the softest kinds of food possible, his dinner was still far from being a pleasant affair. Each bite scratched his bruised throat like a ball of broken glass, and he had decided to eat everything on his tray. Thankfully he was joined by Tritt Opan and Colonel Kaplan, the latter being forced to use a crutch to move around after the traitorous FN-2187 had turned the turrets of the stolen craft against the control room. They discussed the many complexities of repairs, both ongoing and pending, and while Armitage had hardly anything to contribute with to the conversation, he still found it a soothing distraction. It reminded him of the rains of Arkanis. How pleasant they had been to his ears. How comforting their sound. 
> 
> With the dinner over, he briefly returned to his room to read reports from the hangar search as well as those from the autopsies of dead troopers. He sipped at his glass of Andoan wine as he turned page after page, scratching the purring Millicent under her chin. The little beast’s emerald eyes shone with content. 
> 
> _Aah, to be a cat…_ he sighed internally and checked his watch. It was half past seven standard time. Time to go. 
> 
>  
> 
> He was the first one to arrive at the interrogation room, which was how he preferred it, but to his surprise Kylo Ren decided to join him after all, tailing Armitage’s caf-bearing protocol droid. Armitage noted that the Supreme Leader looked less like bantha-crap now. His hair was slightly damp and his clothes smelled of freshness. His pallor remained, though then again - being on board of the _Finalizer_ did not present many opportunities for one’s complexion to acquire colour. 
> 
> “I’ve been notified of the hangar bay incident.” Kylo Ren stated. 
> 
> “Yes, very well, as you should’ve been.” Armitage replied somewhat awkwardly, as Ren’s statement didn’t exactly require an answer. 
> 
> “This planet. It’s strange. You shouldn’t have sent a recon party there.” Ren said slowly,
> 
> Was there… _restraint_ in his voice? How odd. 
> 
> “We’re not going anywhere unless we find out where exactly we are. After the _Supremacy_ and Crait, the situation is unstable. Time is of the essence.”
> 
> There was a moment of silence between them. 
> 
> Kylo Ren grabbed one of the few chairs and sat down next to Armitage. He pulled out his own datapad and read what appeared to be the copy of the recon party’s reports.
> 
> “Were you able to reach the… _anyone_ back there?” 
> 
> This was a necessary question, but that didn’t mean Armitage was happy to voice it. In fact, he didn’t want to discuss anything at all with this man sitting next to him, but as they were the _Supreme Leader_ and the _General_ , personal feelings had to be swept aside. 
> 
> “No. I haven’t.” Ren answered with a hollow sort of tone. 
> 
> “The planet. Why do you think it’s strange?”
> 
> For the first time since Ren’s arrival their eyes met, but at the exact moment K-4 chose to inform them of the troopers’ arrival. 
> 
> Kylo Ren took his own cup of caf and held it in his hands as if to warm them. Armitage understood that he chose to participate in this interrogation only as a listener. 
> 
> And so the first trooper was summoned inside. 
> 
> It was the SN-0799.
> 
> Armitage cleared his throat (trying not to wince) and stated his questions one by one, while the trooper answered, her back ramrod straight. 
> 
> “No, sir, we did not encounter anything of note. No life-forms, at least. Nothing that would show up on our bio-scans. Just… the sound the wind made was so strange, it’s like it was almost a song. Started with D♯, went into _vibrato_ , and then-… I apologize, sir. I did not mean to digress. No, sir, nothing out of the ordinary. Or at least nothing _unexpectedly_ out of the ordinary. No, sir. No one reported any problems. The operation proceeded just as planned with no casualties and no damages. Everything went as smooth as the overture for the _’Crown of Beyond’_ just before the brass section- Ah… sorry, sir. Yes, sir. Long live the First Order.” 
> 
> SN-0799 left and Armitage briefly checked his datapad. The whole exchange has been recorded, converted into text and added to the stormtrooper’s personal file as was the custom. SN-0799’s file was _chock-full_ of musical references. 
> 
> The next trooper to enter was OZ-9312 in her black armour. The pilot of the transport. 
> 
> “No, sir, I have not left the cockpit for the whole duration of the drop. Yes, sir, I have manned the long-range scans. I have not registered any kinds of life-forms. No, sir, there was nothing out of the ordinary, only towards the end the wind started to pick up, and we were fairly close to the perforated stone spires, though the craft operates well enough for us to avoid any significant danger. Yes, sir, the scans were operational during the entirety of the drop. They have not picked up anything. No, sir, I am not aware of any problems suffered by anyone from the recon team. Complications?... ah, there were some _very_ rough winds as we ascended back to the _Finalizer._ I have almost lost control for a moment, but the atmospheric assault lander is a good vessel. She could handle this much. Sienar produces some of the finest crafts in the whole galaxy. It is our pride.”
> 
> As Armitage dismissed the pilot, he noticed Kylo Ren nodding in agreement with OZ-9312’s words. Of course he was. His TIE Silencer was made by the same company after all. As for Armitage himself, he rather preferred Kuat. After all, nothing represented the might of First Order quite as well as the awe-inspiring sight of a Star Destroyer. 
> 
> The next one to arrive was OD-7653, the proof that some stormtroopers might’ve accumulated too many blows to the head. Armitage had heard of this one before, and he had expected this man to join the ranks of casualties sooner rather than later, but no matter how many times he’d been deployed, OD-7653 had always returned relatively unharmed. 
> 
> “Good evening, Supreme Leader, General… have we encountered anything? No, I think not. Nothing alive, at least. Nothing on the scans. But if you ask me, the landscape made up for it. It looked just like melted liquorice. Sorry, sir, I’ll keep my personal observations to myself. Anything out of the ordinary? Well, I thought it’s strange that Ax doesn’t know what a holey cheese is, but- oh… _oh, I see_. No, not particularly. There were some squiggles on the wall. Some kind of writing system. It looked nothing like Aurebesh or Futhork, or the Gungan, Mabari, Huttese, Umbaran, or Tythan scripts, or the Dathomiri symbols. No, sir, I can’t read those, but my father was a scribe, so I can at least recognise them. No, sir. No one had any problems, though our way back was rather tumultuous. My stomach heaved and, ha ha, I almost used my helmet to- oh, okay. Won’t happen again. Very well then, have a nice evening, Supreme Leader, General…”
> 
> As OD-7653 left, Armitage rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt Ren’s eyes on him, but decided that the cup of caf in front of him was more deserving of his attention. He wished Millicent was there so he could draw from her trademark feline calm. 
> 
> Next one to enter the room was the flametrooper. Another familiar name. BR-0510 was as loyal to fire as to First Order itself. He had been present during the destruction of that Jakku village, Tuanul, where he was heard saying _“Say hello to mister yellow”_ just before wreathing the settlement in flames. 
> 
> “Sir. No, sir, that planet is wonderfully pure. ‘t was the fire… the fire. The fire cleanses. Must’ve been quite a sight, when it got eaten by its star. Wish I could see it happen. The star expandin’, temperin’ the dirt, the weakness, the falsehood… ‘pologies, sir. Din’ mean to ramble. Nope, nothing could survive that. And nothing can live there. As far as I could see, no soil, no water, jus’… no, no problems. We tried to explore the inner chambers of ‘em spires, but didn’t get very far. Not really human friendly, y’see. Sent out probes at the very least. No, no problems, but boy-oh-boy, was the return trip jumpy.”
> 
> BR-0510 left and in his wake, K-4 arrived with caf refill. Armitage took a couple of sips and then had the last one enter. 
> 
> AX-1220 entered and remained standing in the middle, as rigid and silent as one of those black spires below. Saving admonishments for the lack of courtesy for later, he began with posing his sets of questions. 
> 
> “No, sir. No, sir. No, sir. No, sir. No, sir.” -came the answers, one by one. 
> 
> The fastest interrogation ever. 
> 
> Armitage leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of his hand. One of the few things he knew about AX-1220 was the fact that she was one of the very last children his father brought back from his many, many trips. As much as he thought of his father as a fat slob and a useless, weak coward, he didn’t think him stupid. He only brought children he considered the strongest of strong. 
> 
> “Come now, AX-1220. Surely you have noticed something. We are trying to piece together a proper picture of this planet below, and for that we need personal input of living witnesses as much as bare facts of the footage and scans.”
> 
> The stormtrooper sunk into another moment of silence. Armitage noticed that Kylo Ren shifted in his seat and stared at her with those dark eyes of his. 
> 
> “Sir, I had no visual, auditory, or tactile proof of anything being amiss.” 
> 
> That wording was almost amusing. 
> 
> “Which means that you’ve noticed _something else_.”
> 
> “It… the whole trip, but especially towards its end, it was like… “ AX-1220 tilted her head in thought. “Like back then on the planet I was born on. There was the Iron Webnest. A structure of sorts. It made noises. When it went silent, huge swarms of beetles went up in the air. They remained there until they all started to die. It was that kind of feeling. It also felt like creeping through the bush while in the trees above, the black lamp-eyes were watching. You couldn’t see them, but you just knew. Black lamp-eyes, who fed on shadows.”
> 
> “Where were you born?” Kylo Ren asked. 
> 
> “I don’t know, sir.”
> 
> “You don’t know?”
> 
> “When I was small, there were people around. One by one they disappeared. I was alone until the ships came from the sky. There was no one to speak to.”
> 
> Armitage looked at Ren. As he didn’t seem to have any further questions, he dismissed the stormtrooper. She turned on her heel and marched out of the doorway. 
> 
> “That was quite a show.” His dark-haired superior observed a small, strained smile on his lips. 
> 
> “Well, there’s a good reason for that.” Armitage replied and quickly checked the medical records of all five interviewees. 
> 
> “A reason?”
> 
> “Yes. You don’t send your best men into a completely foreign and unexplored environment. We have to minimize the losses of our assets.”
> 
> “There are very few losses that can’t be replaced.” Ren replied darkly. 
> 
> “That is true, I suppose.” Armitage shrugged, not particularly caring about the hidden meaning of those words. 
> 
> He was more interested in the medical records from the obligatory post-drop check-ups. His eyes dissected the wall of data with the skilful precision of a surgeon’s knife, but even he found nothing amiss. No parasites, viruses, toxins… nothing. These were five perfectly healthy stormtroopers. 
> 
> “That last one.” Said Ren after a lengthy moment of silence.
> 
> “AX-1220. Something wrong with her?”
> 
> “I think she might have some attunement to the Force. She has a slight trace of that air around her.”
> 
> “So?” Armitage asked, making a mental note to put AX-1220 through another battery of tests and a new bout of conditioning. Having one irresponsible Force-user on board was more than enough. 
> 
> “She sensed something up there. It’s just as she said. _You couldn’t see them. You just knew_.” 
> 
> “You mean the transporter could’ve picked our unwanted visitor up during its ascent? Yes, I’ve considered _that_ possibility as well. It’s been a while since we had to clean Oswaft guts off of our ships.”
> 
> “This won’t be _nearly_ as easy, General.” Ren snapped. 
> 
> “I’ve guessed as much even without your help.” Armitage shot back using the exact same tone before he could stop himself. His temper flared. Did Ren just suggest he might be _reckless? Him_ , of all people?
> 
> He glared at Ren, who glowered back at him. Surprisingly enough there was no Force-choke this time. Neither was he slammed against the nearest hard surface. But when Kylo Ren’s arm shot up, he flinched all the same. His elbow hit one of the datapads. It hit the floor with a sharp clang. Nevertheless, that outstretched hand did not grab his throat or dislocate his limbs. Its gloved fingertips merely brushed against Armitage’s injured shoulder joint, its bruising hidden under the layer of gaberwool.
> 
> “You are a capable general, Armitage Hux. It would be a pity to lose you. But as I said, there are few losses that couldn’t be replaced.”
> 
> And with that he left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trooper BR-0510 is a shout-out to Dan Abbnett's character Aongus Brostin from his WH40K series 'Gaunt's Ghosts'.  
> Thanks everyone for the kudos and sorry about the long, long time it took me to update. I'll do better next time.


	6. Sapling's growth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speedier chapter, just as promised.

> After Ren’s departure, Armitage sat stiffly in his seat for a while, eyes burning holes through the door, face flushed with anger. Although seeing Ren’s rueful face a few hours before had disgusted him, he now wished the Force-user’s restraint had lasted a little longer. 
> 
> Regaining a measure of calm by imagining dear Supreme Leader strapped to the _Finalizer’s_ thrust nozzles, he picked up the fallen datapad and finished his caf. Once again he submerged himself in the data, carefully re-reading the examination results of the recon party, autopsy reports of the unfortunate troopers, and every available data concerning the planet below. 
> 
> Findings of the recon team along with an absolute lack of organic matter in soil samples pointed at a complete lack of any planetary life. He recalled BR-0510’s words and silently agreed with them. It probably _was_ a sight to behold, when this world’s life-giver turned into its own antithesis (though Armitage doubted it was as good a show as the Hosnian Example). Such cataclysms were generally fatal to every living being on any unlucky planet they’ve hit. Thus he came to the conclusion that the troublemaker must’ve been some kind of a nomadic creature. 
> 
> At that moment there was a knock on the door. It slid open, revealing Lieutenant Stynnix. 
> 
> “General Hux. There has been a report of a stormtrooper acting in a suspicious fashion.” She announced after giving him a perfect salute. 
> 
> “Suspicious fashion? What do you mean by that?” he raised an eyebrow, not quite sure whether to be annoyed by her intrusion or relieved by the distraction it offered. 
> 
> “In an _inebriated_ fashion.” She clarified as a tiniest frown pulled down the corners of her mouth. 
> 
> Armitage glared at her. She paled somewhat but her gaze remained steady. _A good officer_ , he thought to himself. _A proper officer_ .
> 
> “Well, have him thrown out of the airlock. Or tarred and feathered. Or fed to Millicent. Or _something_ . How is this _my_ issue to deal with?” he answered as calmly as possible. 
> 
> “Sir, this trooper was identified as SN-2011.”
> 
> “The missing hangar guard.” Armitage said and leaned forward, his interest piqued.
> 
> “Yes, that one, sir.”
> 
> “Do we have any footage?”
> 
> Lieutenant Stynnix nodded and showed him a copy of security records. 
> 
> It showed a stormtrooper staggering down a wide corridor. It must’ve been somewhere near the cargo-bay, judging by the look of the place. There was not another soul in sight. 
> 
> The trooper’s movements were odd. Armitage quickly discarded the initial suspicion of drunkenness and suspected something rather more severe. Most likely a serious neurological injury. SN-2011 didn’t seem to be able to walk in a straight line, and although his balance was outrageously bad, he didn’t think _once_ to use his hands to steady himself. He just walked on and on with arms handing limply by his sides. Every now and then he tripped and fell on his face, only to pull himself up and walk again. Eventually he encountered an astromech accompanied by an MSE droid and he lurched at them, only to trip over his own foot. Both droids scurried away. It had been them who alerted the security. 
> 
> Armitage narrowed his eyes. He tried to ignore the chill that ran down his spine. This show. It was uncanny. 
> 
> “Have him apprehended and brought to quarantine. It looks like a trauma to the head, but we can’t be sure. I want everyone to exercise the highest level of caution. And I also want him interrogated as soon as his condition allows it.”
> 
>  
> 
> As per Armitage’s order, troops have been sent to find SN-2011 and the one to succeed was FB-0007. As soon as he confirmed SN-2011’s identity, FB-0007 turned on the transmitting device built into his helmet. This footage had been forwarded directly to the general’s office where Armitage viewed it in real time as he brushed Millicent’s coat with a soft rubber brush. When it finished, he drank the rest of his caf, carefully set the ginger tabby down in his armchair and without any further ado marched over to Ren’s quarters. 
> 
> The Supreme Leader appeared to have been readying himself to get some rest. He was dressed down to his trousers and under-tunic. Barefooted and barehanded. Something flashed in his dark eyes and Armitage felt a strange brush on the inside of his skull. This wasn’t followed by any choking though and even that touch felt more like a cool breeze instead of the horrifically unpleasant mind-probes Snoke used to subject him to. 
> 
> Together they watched the footage. 
> 
> The holoscreen showed them FB-0007’s point of view. 
> 
> The trooper came across SN-2011 and asked him to stay still and identify himself. SN-2011 ignored him and staggered, hitting the wall with the side of his head as his arms dangled limply back and forth. FB-0007 did not rush in to help. Armitage felt a swell of pride as the stormtrooper disregarded natural responses in favour of following the protocol. He calmly and loudly demanded of the injured trooper to follow him to the med-bay. SN-2011 did not do as asked. In fact, he did the opposite and attacked FB-0007, going headfirst and flailing his arms around. First time Armitage had seen the footage, he vividly imagined the trooper’s jaws snap like those of a rabid dog and spittle coat the inside of his white betaplast helmet. 
> 
> Realizing that verbal warnings were not likely to get him anywhere, FB-0007 activated his riot control baton, skilfully evaded the attack and jammed the baton in the crook of the deranged man’s knee. Electric current shot through his body, and… did absolutely nothing. This fact obviously surprised FB-0007, but it didn’t hamper his combat abilities. The next attack he deflected via a good kick to the man’s chest which he followed up with a powerful swing of the baton towards SN-2011’s face. 
> 
> The white and black helmet flew off. 
> 
> Armitage glanced over at Ren. 
> 
> Removal of the helmet revealed… not much of a face. Only the lower jaw remained, strangely protruding as if dislocated on both sides. The rest was covered by a shifting black mass with about a dozen of stumpy black tendrils, all of them constantly pulsating and rippling. FB-0007’s revulsion was apparent, but not even now did he allow his feelings to cloud his judgement. He countered another lunge of the creature by ducking and flinging the attacker over his shoulder. At that point the thing which used to be SN-2011 gave up and scuttled away. FB-0007 attempted to follow, but almost immediately a black rope comprised of a thousand knobby fingers shot out of the back of SN-2011’s head. FB-0007 had to throw himself to the ground to avoid their reach. Once he got up and entered the adjacent corridor to pursue, his baton switched for a blaster, he found- nothing. Nothing at all. The place was empty. SN-2011 was gone. 
> 
> Ren watched all of this with a frown. His lips were tightly pursed, brow furrowed, incredulousness in his eyes. 
> 
> “What are your orders, _Supreme Leader_?” Armitage asked as soon as the projection vanished. 
> 
> Ren shot him a blank look. 
> 
> There was silence. 
> 
> He then returned to stare at the now-empty holoscreen, joint of his index finger tracing his lower lip. The air around him grew heavier by the second. 
> 
> Armitage wanted to let Ren stew in this for as long as possible, to enjoy the self-proclaimed _Supreme Leader’s_ predicament, but what would that say of him as a person? Of his own maturity? Whether or not Kylo Ren realized it, they were in this together. 
> 
> “…apprehend him. We have to….” Ren’s uncertain voice trailed off as he turned away from the screen to stare at his clenching and unclenching fingers. 
> 
> Armitage cleared his throat. 
> 
> “You see, this is the _First Order_... not an _Order of One._ ” He said, his words drawn out with hesitation. 
> 
> There was another moment of silence. A protracted moment. An infinity. Armitage wondered which part of his body was going to pay for this insolence. Dull ache had already returned to nestle in his shoulder and ribs. It had been a while since he last took his painkillers. All of a sudden he felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. 
> 
> “What would you suggest then, General Hux?” Ren finally asked, much to his surprise. 
> 
> “Close off the whole hangar and logistics area and have them searched. But first and foremost, have all partaking stormtroopers remove their helmets. Also, have all the squad leaders make sure their men are present and accounted for.” Armitage answered promptly.
> 
> This order was in many ways completely outrageous. Ordering the troopers to remove their helmets? He might as well have told them to drink tea and compose poetry Gatalentan style. And yet it had to be done. Need outweighed custom. This was the way of the First Order. They were adaptable. Being adaptable was a key. Stiffness was a feature of the Old Republic. It was the reason it had collapsed. The same went for the Empire in extension. Breaking established customs, possessing fast reactions, yes - even making mistakes. Those were the signs of youth, of flexibility and opportunities. 
> 
> Ren turned to give him a look, as if he wanted to make sure his general wasn’t joking at his expense, but then he agreed to his proposition. Armitage had no time to feel triumphant. First of all he contacted Peavey and ordered to have all teams currently working on emergency repairs accompanied by tripled guards, and then Opan upon whom he bestowed the responsibility for safety of the upper habitation levels. Those were quite a distance from the logistics area, but one could never be too careful. 
> 
> Once he switched the comm-link off, Armitage heaved a sigh and turned to leave. 
> 
> “I’ll be on the bridge in case you’ll require my assistance.” He said. 
> 
> “Then I’ll accompany you.”
> 
> He turned around. “…no, that won’t be necessary. I see you were retiring for the day. In that case, please get some rest, Supreme Leader.”
> 
> Ren frowned. It was a distinctly _distrustful_ sort of frown. “I can hardly sit on my hands while all of this is happening.” 
> 
> “Yes, you can. We have no idea what awaits us. We might have to…” Armitage paused, wondering how to put it as diplomatically as possible. “I already had some sleep, so I’m not tired. I’ll turn in once you wake up. Someone has to keep watch. And if you want to feel-… if you want to do something even so, maybe you can try to use the Force to look for the thing.”
> 
> The frown of distrust gradually turned into one of concession. “Very well. But shouldn’t you head for the medbay first? You _are_ in pain.”
> 
> _No I’m not_ \- was the first response in Armitage’s mind, but it sounded so childish it almost made him cringe. 
> 
> “I’m not going to whine because of few bumps and bruises. There are more important matters to oversee. The sooner you’ve had your rest, the sooner I get mine. Good night, Supreme Leader.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone for the lovely comments and kudos. You're the best!


	7. Secrets behind the white armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...in which some people behave in a reprehensible manner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy May4th everyone!

> When it came to inebriated Stormtroopers, the common consensus among those involved was that “ _If one was stupid enough to show it, one did not **deserve** to be drunk” _. Naturally, most members of the crew had no idea it even _was_ possible to find alcohol on a Star Destroyer, especially if that Star Destroyer was General Hux’s flagship, but as immense as the vessel was, there were _always_ some ways; if one was shrewd or insightful enough. The meanest stormtrooper, the most insignificant technician – anyone could get sloshed, if they careful about it. 
> 
> AX-1220 did not consider herself particularly shrewd, but she _was_ fairly proud of her insight. Her ability to stay silent and inconspicuous even amongst her brethren meant she saw and heard that which might’ve been overlooked or unnoticed. 
> 
> Later that cycle she returned to the medbay, where one of the few human doctors was still poring over some data. Since she visited the medbay mere hours before along with the rest of her temporary team to have her examinations done, she knew where to find him. The pointed-faced, narrow-eyed, silver-haired ‘Doctor Fox’. She gave him this nickname as the man reminded her of the ashfoxes found around a geyser-rich volcanic area north of where she had her base as a child. 
> 
> Dr Fox looked up, his green eyes smiling though his thin lips were as straight as always. 
> 
> She removed her helmet. 
> 
> “Ah, if it isn’t AX-1220. What ails you?”
> 
> “My head feels clogged. I need to un-clog it.”
> 
> “I see.” The doctor nodded and tapped the datapad with his stylus a couple of times as if in thought. “Hm…you need a medicine for that. I can’t give you a prescription over here. Perhaps we should move to a more secure area…”
> 
> She agreed. 
> 
> Dr Fox stood up and led the way to his office, and she followed.
> 
> Once inside, he slid down the shutter, locked the door and turned off any recording device, while she methodically removed her armour, piece by piece. Last came the body glove and, wearing only her underwear, she took a seat on Dr Fox’s examination table. 
> 
> The doctor lovingly gazed at her legs. He filled a tub with lukewarm water, dipped his own silken handkerchief in it and proceeded to wash both of her feet. His thin, nimble fingers carefully traced the veins lined under her pale skin bleached by the nigh-constant encasement in her armour. The structure of her bones, taut tendons, the old childhood scar on the sole of her left foot from when she had stepped on a discarded gutkurr shell buried in the undergrowth. The soft touch of his fingers was soon replaced by the moist warmth of his tongue. AX-1220 watched him, watched as his pale cheeks slowly gained colour and his eyes glazed. She was roughly aware of what he was getting out of this, but to her it was nothing but a transaction. 
> 
> The whole liaison lasted half an hour, more or less. As she was getting dressed again, Dr Fox left for a moment to retrieve a bottle of “medicine” along with two glasses. He did not like his stock leaving the premises of the med-bay, which she was okay with. She drank in silence while he told her about Wobani, his homeworld. About the journeys he undertook as a young man and the stories imparted to him by fellow doctors and family. She liked listening to him. He had a strangely soothing voice and his erudition often left her grasping for the meaning behind his words - which she also liked.
> 
> Eventually she made her way back to the barracks, her belly full of alcohol and head full of stories. She knew she’d be sleep-deprived on her next shift, but Dr. Fox’s stories were as invigorating as the best post-shift nap. 
> 
> She _was_ looking forward to at least a couple of hours’ worth of sleep though, so when _the message_ was broadcasted into her helmet, her spirits fell a little. 
> 
> New commands, issued by Kylo Ren. Their new Supreme Leader. 
> 
> AX-1220 still wondered about it. Was he _really_ the new Supreme Leader? She was not sure. She had thought the Supreme Leader looked different. She had thought Kylo Ren was… some… auxiliary operative, maybe…? But then again, politics was not her thing and she was not there to think about this kind of stuff in the first place. After all, dummies shouldn’t think about such topics and that’s what she considered herself to be. A dummy. The few difficult words and phrases she knew were copied from the doctor. 
> 
> But situation concerning the High Command was still quite bothersome. There was so much gossip about the rift between the General and the Supreme Leader, it reached even her edge of the barracks. She had no patience for that. Her allegiance belonged to the First Order and the First Order alone, and like many, she considered General Hux to be its embodiment. However. There was something about the Supreme Leader. Some kind of… _air_ around him. When he looked at her, he **looked** at her. It was odd. 
> 
> Still, General Hux was the commander she’d obey.
> 
> He was the last one left. 
> 
> First the previous Hux disappeared, succumbing to a disease. Then Captain Cardinal vanished, retiring, according to official statement. Captain Phasma was now gone as well, fallen in the line of duty. And now only General Hux remained. General Hux. Like the Iron Webnest of her homeworld, he was the whiff of something bigger in her small, lowly world. She was prepared to throw her life away if he ordered her to do so. 
> 
> She returned back to the barracks to get at least a tiny, few minutes long nap, but there she almost ran into OT-1588, nicknamed Otis. 
> 
> “Ax. You’ve heard the message?” he asked. 
> 
> She nodded once in response. 
> 
> “The roster has changed. We are supposed to join the search for the trespasser. You have fifteen minutes to prepare.” 
> 
> Another nod.
> 
> “Where have you been anyway? I almost reported you as missing.”
> 
> No nod this time, but no explanation either. Otis stared at her from behind his helmet for a while, and then he shook his head in resignation. 
> 
> “I know you might still be tired from that planetary drop, so I had some stimulants brought for you. Take them and check your gear. Thirteen minutes left. And don’t forget. Helmets off.”
> 
> Another nod and Otis was gone. 
> 
> Once AX-1220 reached her bunk, she went to the water dispenser to drink some water. Then she swallowed the stimulants, checked her weapons, and lastly removed her helmet. Without the helmet’s interface, the world looked all weird and flat. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. Everything seemed to wobble slightly. Having no time to gripe, she quickly rejoined the rest of her squad along with Otis, who handed her the same comm-link everyone else already wore. She slid it into her ear and took place in the last row next to AT-1245, who gave her an askew glance. 
> 
> The squad set off, joined by four others along the way. 
> 
> Once they’ve reached the closed-off area, the whole group split again, separated squads further dividing into couples when they entered the cargo bay. 
> 
> AX-1220 and AT-1245 slowly searched the maze of aisles created by stacks of various shipping containers and crates. Every now and then they caught the glimpse of another team assigned to some nearby area. They slowly patrolled through their sector, blasters drawn and ready, each guarding her own side, one covering the other whenever they reached an intersection. 
> 
> Slowly but surely AX-1220 begun to feel funny. She started to hear things. The drab soundscape of the troopers’ soft footsteps and muffled words reporting zero findings coming from nearby began to be slowly but surely enriched by a different kind of noise. A _familiar_ kind. A low, droning hum, originating not from any electrical equipment, but from AX-1220’s memory. She was sure it was the sound of slate-eater beetles from her past, and yet she could hear it as if those bugs were right there with her. She even gave the ceiling a cursory glance - without seeing anything, of course. But that did not make the sound go away.
> 
> Had she been accompanied by BR-0510 or OD-7653, she would’ve asked whether they could hear anything, but with AT-1245 she didn’t see any point. In the end she decided that it was probably some weird side effect of mixing her stimulants with all that alcohol she drank. It made her head go funny; and her stomach didn’t fare much better, tightening with every step. 
> 
> And somewhere in front of her, a back lamp-eye was watching, its scent masked by the acrid stench of slate-eater carcasses raining from the sky. She could sense it even with all these distractions around her. There. Behind the stack of filters. Next to huge pillars of bulky containers with plastoid plates inside. There, where _a door_ was. 
> 
> _“What are you doing?”_ AT-1245 hissed at her, grabbing her forearm. 
> 
> “The door. It’s behind it.” AX-1220 answered with unshakeable conviction. She couldn’t understand how did the woman next to her not notice such obvious fact, especially with her shoulders and hair covered by the shells of dead beetles. The slate-eaters which had starved to death in mid-air. 
> 
> _“What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t the way we’re supposed to go.”_
> 
> “Our orders. Find the beast. Kill it.” 
> 
> _“But you-…”_ suddenly AT-1245’s eyes narrowed as she smelled AX-1220’s breath. _“…you’re drunk again. You’ll be in **so much** trouble once- **hey!** ” _
> 
> AX-1220 was not particularly curious about what her comrade had to say. This was a hunt. She opened the door and walked into a spacious corridor used mainly for cargo transport.
> 
> Her comm came to life with her superior’s voice. AT-1245 tattled. _“Ax. What the hell are you doing? You’re-“_ she didn’t give Otis time to finish his sentence and switched the device off. She could feel the Webnest in the distance. She had passed its elegant spires only few hours ago, and was still invigorated by the sight. (Or was it years? Did it even matter?) Her feet moved on their own; brought her closer, closer, closer to the lamp-eye. Her hand readied the rifle. The scenery around her changed into the idealized landscape of her mind - a maze of ferrocrete, durasteel and plastoid. Dead bugs crunched beneath the soles of her feet. And the prey – it was in front of her. Just one last turn. She could already hear the loud beat of the lamp-eye’s heart. Her own was steady and calm. Few more steps-
> 
> And AT-1245 grabbed her shoulder and moved in front of her. 
> 
> _“You **idiot!** Get right back in there or we’ll be punished both! Squad leader already-“_
> 
> But AX-1220 never got to hear what Otis might’ve said or ordered. 
> 
> There was a movement behind the oblivious woman and AX-1220 reacted in a split of a second. She fired her rifle. The shot singed AT-1245’s shoulder plate and the betaplast surface deflected it away from the lamp-eye. 
> 
> Two black ropes, twisted boughs, or perhaps clusters of slugs wrapped themselves around the shocked stormtrooper as if hugging her. Thin, forked worms grew out of them and dug into her throat, her ears, her cheeks. AT-1245’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. She opened her mouth, but before she had the chance to scream, a tapeworm-like protuberance shot down her gullet, twitching and twisting as it made its way down. 
> 
> That broke the illusion. 
> 
> There was no Iron Webnest, no maze of ferrocrete, no slate-eaters, and no forest. She was in the corridors of the _Finalizer_ \- her home, her _only_ home, and there was something insane in front of her, far worse than the biggest of black lamp-eyes from her birthplanet. 
> 
> Horror squeezed the air out of her chest, but she still moved in direct accordance to her instincts. Jumping back, she pressed the trigger without aiming. There was no reason to aim at a distance this short.
> 
> The first shot made a black hole in AT-1245’s abdomen, the other went through her heart. As her bunkmate fell dead to the ground, the creature behind was revealed. AX-1220’s bolts had made the black sludge split apart and reveal white betaplast of a devoured stormtrooper’s armour. And that was about all it did. Misshapen head without any features craned towards her, farther than the vertebrae should’ve allowed. One bough-like arm still held onto the dead woman, but it was obvious AX-1220 was its next point of interest. Flattish, tar-black slugs of its face rhythmically spread and closed as if tasting the air and whenever they opened, parts of a whitened, strangely-collapsed and melted human skull shone through. 
> 
> AX-1220 shot again, this time aiming right at the face. Without waiting for the results (fully expecting there not to be any of note) she spun around. She tried to find a way out. The cargo bay was too far away. No backup for her. But there. A narrow door in the wall. The utility corridor. She shot another volley at the thing, slammed the button and jumped right in. 
> 
>  
> 
> Armitage listened intently to AX-1220’s report while studying her face. It was as sharp as on the holos attached to her file. Her eyes had still the same shade of grey and short hair the same mousy colour. No trace of anything black. There was, however, a trace of _something else_. His eyes narrowed. 
> 
> “So the creature did not follow you inside the utility corridor.”
> 
> “No, sir.”
> 
> “And blaster pulses had no effect.”
> 
> “No, sir.”
> 
> “Any other confirmed deaths apart from AT-1245?”
> 
> “No, sir.” 
> 
> “Very well. Go to the infirmary now. I have informed the staff to perform another check-up. Then return to your quarters.”
> 
> “Yes, sir.”
> 
> “And starting tomorrow it’s once month of janitorial duties for you. Usually I would have you airlocked for inebriation, but we’re low on manpower as it is, so I’ll make an exception _this time._ ”
> 
> “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” 
> 
> “And also…” he leaned forward, elbows resting on desktop, fingertips touching. “Do you know anything about the Force?”
> 
> For the first time he saw AX-1220 mildly confused. 
> 
> “Like… the gravitational force, sir?”
> 
> “Never mind. Go now. If I ever catch you drunk again, it’ll be the airlock for you. Dismissed.”
> 
> The stormtrooper’s salute was perfect even now as she marched out of his office. 
> 
> Armitage leaned back in his chair. His head was starting to hurt. He saw the footage of the logistics corridor fight and tried to track the creature, but it vanished again. Many of the security cameras were still offline and right now there was no one to rectify this. 
> 
> Returning the footage to the point when AX-1220 shot through her comrade to get their troublesome stowaway, he paused it and zoomed in on its head. His nose wrinkled in disgust. Revolting thing. The way it used the dead SN-2011’s body to move around, it seemed to have been some kind of a parasite. Accessing the _Finalizer’_ s database, he cross-checked the footage with the information on every kind of these creatures it contained, starting with the obvious - Geonosis. 
> 
> Two hours, three mugs of caf and two of tarine tea later he logged out and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 
> 
> He needed some rest. 
> 
> The inside of his skull was starting to feel like a throbbing ball of iron wool, which had pushed all sensible thought out, leaving space for hardly anything apart from a muddy kind of pain. All remaining thoughts coursed around sluggishly and without any aim to speak of. Even the very air had a heavy, metallic taste to it. 
> 
> _Damn this situation. Damn the Resistance, the New Republic, and that idiot Ren for getting us into this,_ he allowed himself to mutter under his breath - but only to let off some steam. There were pressing matters demanding his attention and he couldn’t allow his anger to get the better of him. 
> 
> Though, perhaps, not right _now_.
> 
> Now was the time for Ren to take over, and for him to sink into his sofa with a glass of whisky in his hand. 
> 
> His original plan was to wait for Ren to come and relieve him, but he had grown too tired to concentrate which made him restless. He needed some space to breathe and even the slightest change of scenery to soothe his mind. 
> 
> Slicking his hair back with his fingers, he stood up, finished the last drop of tea and headed towards the upper habitation levels. 
> 
> Corridors there were spacious and quiet. He had scarcely met anyone else along the way, save for some MSE droids scuttling about their business. Therefore, when he heard footsteps from somewhere nearby, he paused, realizing for the first time that walking down these hallways on his own might not have been the best of ideas. His hand reached for his hidden blaster - but it was only Ren. Not that it wasn’t a good reason to grab any weapon available, but still. Better than a horrific, people-consuming alien. 
> 
> Ren stopped in his tracks and gave him a look.
> 
> “General Hux. I see you were anxious to meet me.” He remarked, using that annoyingly sarcastic tone of his. 
> 
> “I needed to stretch my legs, that’s all.”
> 
> “On your own, while we have an unknown alien lifeform on board? Perhaps I ought to examine you, just to make sure.”
> 
> “I’m happy to hear you are _well-rested_ and _eager_ to resume your duties, Supreme Leader.” Armitage retorted with a stony expression. 
> 
> “Was there another incident?” Ren asked suddenly.
> 
> A sharp nod was the only answer. 
> 
> “Where. I want to see.”
> 
> Armitage turned on his heel and led the way. 
> 
> They took a turbolift towards the hangar deck, and as it moved them through the floors, Armitage quickly recounted the whole incident in few laconic sentences. 
> 
> “AX-1220 again.” Ren remarked.
> 
> “Drunk on god-knows-what. If we weren’t in need of every blaster, I would’ve had her executed.”
> 
> “For a little bit of drinking? Come on now, General Hux. The Force is something that normal, uneducated people don’t handle very well.”
> 
> “Uneducated. That is certainly correct. I’ve asked her about this - she doesn’t even know what the Force is. Nevertheless - coming to her defence like this, I thought you only had eyes for that Jakku girl.”
> 
> The air between them turned heavy. Fire flashed in Ren’s eyes as he reached for Armitage and the general flinched away, cursing his lack of composure. The Supreme Leader’s hand then returned to his side and those flames in his eyes - instead of vanishing, they turned as cold as ice. 
> 
> “She is a traitor. She tricked-… she killed Supreme Leader Snoke.”
> 
> Armitage remained quiet. He was rather surprised that instead of making fun of his jumpiness as expected, Ren chose to agonise over the girl.
> 
> One little scavenger from a backwater planet killing not only the previous Supreme Leader, but taking out his guards as well, dispatching some of them in that violent, forceful fashion that was _someone else’s_ trademark? Alas, what worth _was_ that knowledge? It might’ve had the potency of a blaster-rifle, but one pointed at Hux’s own chest. 
> 
> They stood motionless for a while, glaring at one-another. In the end, it was Armitage who looked away first. Their turbolift’s arrival on the hangar deck served as a timely excuse for that. The throbbing in his head didn’t exactly help to retain the clarity of mind needed for such confrontation. He also knew that in his irritation, Ren needed little to no pretext for violence. Such people never did. 
> 
> “…in any case, until now neither the engineering nor the maintenance staff in charge of repairs reported any sightings, which is our only luck. The creature seems to stick close to the hangar deck.” Armitage continued as if the previous exchange never happened, and started walking again, though his steps weren’t quite as brisk as before.
> 
> “I wonder if there’s a reason for that.” Ren added, opting to assume the same attitude towards their almost-argument. 
> 
> “Well, this place _is_ under a lockdown after all.”
> 
> “Yes, but these measures fail as often as they hold.”
> 
> “Perhaps you ought to have more faith in our men.”
> 
> To his credit, Ren didn’t come with any sarcastic retort this time, merely shrugging while looking somewhat distracted. 
> 
> “Have you tried using the… _Force_ to look for that thing?” Armitage asked, hesitating somewhat. No matter how often he spoke that word out loud in this context, it always sounded silly. Like a crappy children’s tale. 
> 
> “Yes, but there are too many people in here. I need a personal encounter to read its signature.” 
> 
> “I see.”
> 
> “It’s… not as easy as it seems. The Force isn’t a security network. It is not a tool to be used at one’s convenience.”
> 
> Armitage glanced at the man. The wording of that last sentence was weird for the likes of Ren. It sounded as if he repeated someone else’s teaching. He wanted to know more, but Ren wouldn’t meet his eye. 
> 
> “Convenience…” he continued instead, gazing at the speckless floor “…sometimes I wish I never-“
> 
> His muttering came to a sudden halt - as did his feet. His hand shot out and grabbed Armitage’s forearm, stopping him. 
> 
> “What are you doing?” the general enquired guardedly. 
> 
> “I’m not sure. Just… wait a bit.”
> 
> As he spoke, a sound approached them from somewhere close by. Footsteps. The louder they got, the more apparent it became that there was actually a pair of them. 
> 
> “Guards. Most likely.” Armitage noted and tried to sound more convinced than he felt. 
> 
> And really – seconds later a pair of stormtroopers appeared from behind the corner. A dark-skinned man with heavy features and a blonde woman who was missing an ear. 
> 
> “What’s the status, troopers? Report.” Armitage barked, annoyed because it seemed that neither of the marching troopers have noticed their general. 
> 
> The pair stopped dead in their tracks and turned to him as one. Armitage noticed how wide and unfocused their eyes were; the discoloration of their lips and total stiffness of face. Their mouths fell open. From the darkness inside as well as from under their shiny white armour, black sludge welled up and shot with incredible speed towards the two leaders of the First Order. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone for comments and kudos. Always makes my day, seeing them. 
> 
> During the last proofreading session I've read the text out loud while listening to the Blade Runner 2049 ost on headphones. It was a rather pleasant experience, actually. And BR2049 tracks aren't even on this story's designated playlist.


	8. Fell asleep in your arms tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...in which Armitage gets angry.

> Kylo Ren threw himself to the ground and took the General with him. As soon as they hit the floor, Hux’s hand was on his blaster. He rolled over and shot at the abominations. The black absorbed the bolt as if it was nothing, then bulged out and sent a stream of its mass right at them. He watched as tapeworm-like tendrils crashed and broke against an invisible barrier. They rippled and coiled there, and then branched out into countless stubby, polyp-like fingers which probed at the obstacle in their path without being able to penetrate it. Armitage realised he was watching Ren use the Force. It was odd, seeing it used so blatantly – and on something else beside himself. 
> 
> He continued to fire in spite of what he learned from AX-1220. There _had_ to be a way. Some weak spot she had missed. _Something._ But his shots hardly registered, no matter what he hit - their eyes, nose, the joints between the armour. Neither of the puppeteered troopers reacted. A shot-off piece of scalp flew off in a wide arc, eye ruptured and the skull behind it caved in. He even tried shooting at those prehensile black polyps, but the blast went through without causing any real damage, merely filling the air with an odd smell of dust, dry rot and something acrid. 
> 
> Something stronger was needed.
> 
> _“Can’t you use your lightsaber?”_ he barked. 
> 
> _“The moment I stop concentrating…”_ Ren growled in response, leaving the sentence unfinished. 
> 
> Armitage considered the few options they had. 
> 
> Then he grabbed Ren’s only weapon, slid across the floor as close to the supposed edge of the barrier as possible, and ignited it. A strange feeling akin to an adrenalin rush burst from the tips of his fingers and ran through his entire body. It was electrifying. He ignored Ren’s angered snarl and used his whole might to swing the saber, which felt satisfyingly heavy in his hand. It met with no resistance whatsoever, even though it left two bodies crumpled on the floor, separated from their legs at knee-height. 
> 
> The tar-like creature then fully burst from their bodies, tearing jaws open, engulfing white armour. Like glue it re-attached the limbs, but in an awkward manner and in places they didn’t belong. Strange, raspy screeching filled Armitage’s mind. Somehow he _knew_ it focused solely on him. A tiny probe scratched at his mind and grasped around his thoughts, leaving a fragmented mess and painful pressure in its wake. It was horrifically nauseating. He wanted to chop that offending thing into tiny little pieces. He wanted to crush each and every one of them under the sole of his boot. He wanted to bomb that scorched planet from orbit, to finish what its useless sun failed to do. It was even worse than when Ren did it. At least he felt like a human being. 
> 
> _“Calm down, Hux! We need to get out of here!”_ Ren yelled at him, snapping him out of the bloodlust. 
> 
> Armitage looked around. 
> 
> They were in a long, wide corridor with the hangar door at its very end - which meant no other exits in sight. But the other side… 
> 
> _“The utility corridors!”_
> 
> _“What?!”_
> 
> _“It won’t follow us there!” I hope_ \- he added in his mind. 
> 
> He took another wide swing, severing those tendrils, slicing them into ribbons. 
> 
> And then the barrier, which shielded him from their touch, suddenly vanished. 
> 
> The creature plopped onto the ground and remained there without moving as if stunned. Only for a second though, for very soon it began to swell and bloat like boiling oil. 
> 
> There was a thud form somewhere nearby, and before Armitage had a chance to tear his eyes away from the reconnecting parasite, the lightsaber was snatched out of his hand as its rightful owner reclaimed it. A hand grabbed his collar and threw him none too gently inside the red-lit utility corridor. He hardly realised he landed on his injured shoulder when he hit the wall. The dark figure of Kylo Ren followed him right afterwards, sealing the door shut from the inside. 
> 
> They found themselves in a narrow space without anywhere to go. The whole length of the corridor was separated by emergency shutters, segmented into sections each approximately five metres long. 
> 
> For a couple of moments there was no other sound than the faint hum of electricity and their own heavy breathing. Kylo Ren slid down the wall to sit next to him, ready to ignite his lightsaber once again. 
> 
> “…kriff.” He muttered. 
> 
> “Indeed.” Armitage nodded as he stared at the door. He realized that the only guarantee of their current safety was the word of a drunken weirdo stormtrooper. 
> 
> “Why doesn’t it come after us?” Ren wondered out loud. 
> 
> “Maybe it’s claustrophobic.” Armitage suggested, fighting the urge to laugh. No matter how bad a situation they were in, it was still slightly exhilarating to hear worry in Kylo Ren’s voice. The same Kylo Ren, who just stared daggers at him. 
> 
> “Just a reminder - it’s _your_ fault we’re in this situation in the first place.” 
> 
> “You think so? How quickly do you want me to prove the exact opposite to you, Ren? In any case, sometimes you have to step back in order to leap forward.”
> 
> “You call _having an infestation of hell-slugs_ a step back?”
> 
> “At least I was concentrating on finding our way back to the fleet instead of _pining for my woman._ ” 
> 
> _“She is not my woman!_ ” Ren roared, his rage almost palpable. He lunged at Armitage who gasped with pain as he was pinned to the floor, but that was okay. If this would help Ren reassess his priorities, he thought to himself, then he could live with a little choking. 
> 
> And yet- 
> 
> That rage was gone almost as immediately. Ren released his grip and pulled away, staring at the lightsaber in his hand. 
> 
> “She is not my woman.” He repeated, his voice hollow. “She made her choice. She left. She can do whatever she wants; as she alw-“ 
> 
> His speech was interrupted by a slight tremor. Both men looked at the wall in front of them. For a moment there was nigh-perfect silence as they held their breath. Then another tremor ran through the corridor, and this time it was significantly stronger. 
> 
> _There’s no way it can get through the wall. It just doesn’t have the appropriate mass and without it, it can’t generate enough force to do that. We just need to hold on until it gets tired or bored. Or until someone else barges in. Or until it learns how to unlock doors._
> 
> Armitage started to calm down, but then another blow landed on the wall, and its impact was so hard, the red lighting of the corridor flickered. After that a steady stream of blows followed and it shook their hideout so fiercely, the outline of the wall kept blurring in and out of focus like the membrane of a drum. And the sound, the sound was deafening. Reverberating clangs, groaning and scraping of stressed metal, plastoid panels cracking and snapping one by one. Armitage realised with equal amounts of fury and terror that the thing was tearing the corridor, _his ship_ apart. 
> 
> Parts of the wall started to bulge in like metallic boils about to burst, _exactly_ like metallic boils about to burst, and he prepared his blaster. His hands felt disgustingly sweaty and cold inside the gloves, but stronger was his determination to fire as many shots as possible at the bastard who dared to trash his Star Destroyer and splatter it over as big a surface as possible. 
> 
> And then, all of a sudden, the banging stopped. 
> 
> Silence that followed was almost too much to bear. 
> 
> His grip around the blaster tightened. One glance at Ren told him that he too waited for something. 
> 
> As his ears adjusted to the new lack of sound, he began to hear some kind of soft, almost inaudible scraping. As if someone dragged something sharp across the floor. 
> 
> Another blow hit the wall, but this one was sharper, more focused, and above their heads a dark, thin shadow pierced the corridor.
> 
> Armitage took cover while Ren ignited his lightsaber and swung at it with one swift and graceful motion. Something fell on the floor. Contrary to their expectations, it was not a black slug, but a piece of metal. The creature decided to attack them with pieces of the ship. 
> 
> Armitage wanted to move someplace safer, but then something hit his side. 
> 
> At first he only felt pressure and the sensation of something giving in. Through this came the pain, the hotness. Then the monumental needle tore itself free and it felt like half of his guts followed. Only then did he realise he’s been hit with a piece of metal turned into a makeshift spear. His breath got stuck in his throat. The entire world went dark for a couple of moments, but he would not scream, he forbade himself to.
> 
> It hurt. It hurt like hell. Yet at the same time a different emotion began to suffuse his mind. 
> 
> His left hand pressed against the wound which quickly began to dye the charcoal-grey uniform pitch-black, he grasped the blaster and attempted to shoot. Shoot, shootshootshoot. He would _not_ fall to some disgusting xeno in some starsforsaken part of the universe. This was _not_ the role he was meant to play. This was not the role he _chose_ to play. He did not go through so much for so long only to be impaled by some xeno scum from a useless planet orbiting a burn-out trash of a star. 
> 
> The spear pierced the wall yet again and another followed right after that. The thing apparently decided to stop wasting time on dislodging them for they have been left to remain there, skewering the corridor. 
> 
> _“Stop.”_ Armitage heard an angry hiss.
> 
> He was yanked away from the path of another spear, a broad piece of cracked plastoid, and fell hard on his good side. More blood flowed out of his wound. Even his glove was already soaked.
> 
> _“Stop it.”_ Ren hissed again. 
> 
> With no small amazement Armitage realised Ren was talking to _him_ , that _he_ was the one Ren’s heated look was meant for. As if _he_ was to blame for this. 
> 
> “K-kriff off, Ren.” He coughed out and slapped his hand away.
> 
> _“Your rage is spurring it on. If you won’t calm down, it will be the end of us both.”_ He explained, ducking as another spear pierced the utility corridor few inches away from his head. They were showered with a burst of sparks and half of the lights went dark. Ren’s coal-black eyes were somehow alight with a strange kind of feverish glow. 
> 
> _“Then do something! You’re the Force user here!”_
> 
> Ren did not answer. After a heartbeat’s worth of silence he dragged the both of them on the other end of the shuttered corridor. 
> 
> Armitage was laid down on something soft and warm. It was _Kylo Ren’s lap_. His rage flared, but before he could verbally send dearest Supreme Leader to the deepest pits of the Hell, that ridiculously big hand of his covered Armitage’s eyes and the hot blaze in his mind begun to flow out even faster than the blood from his side. 
> 
> Suddenly he realized how tired he was. It has been a long day after all. He could hear sharp noises coming from nearby, but in spite of their closeness they sounded rather muffled, as if surrounded by cotton wool. The same cotton wool which quickly filled the inside of his mind. Some part of him screamed in rage that this kind of treatment was unacceptable, but compared to a good night’s rest - there was just no competition. He chose to sleep and another voice in his head, a deep and strangely soothing one, agreed with him. It felt nice, to be agreed with. Whatever it was that he deemed unacceptable, he could deal with it in the morning. 
> 
> Soon his breathing evened out and he fell asleep curled up against Ren, who kept Armitage’s eyes closed until everything went quiet once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the absolutely wonderful comments and kudos. 
> 
> We've reached the end of the first half of the story. More alien shenanigans to follow, but not before Hux's and Ren's relationship gets some development.


End file.
